


RENEGADE | ✓

by sailormoan



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Kingdom of Heaven (2005)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Crusades, F/M, Historical Figures, Religious Conflict, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 60
Words: 199,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21576727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailormoan/pseuds/sailormoan
Summary: Aspasia left her home, Macedonia, upon discovering the Templars had a hand in her mother's death. Making a grandiose exit and heading to Athens, she stumbles upon some people who will advise her to head to Jerusalem. It is said that endless opportunities and flows of money await those who are ready to seize them.Aspasia sees this as the best place to head to if she wishes to disappear from the Templars' radar: by blending into the masses of pilgrims and crusaders. After all, she fears for her safety as Templars of the Macedonian Rite are chasing her.Upon her arrival to Jerusalem, she meets an odd man named Phillip who comes to her with an odd offer: kill a public figure discreetly and earn a hefty sum of drachmae. It sounded good enough. Except that Aspasia was not a discreet person. And she had no idea how difficult this task would prove itself to be until she realizes who is the man she is asked to eliminate.
Relationships: Baldwin IV of Jerusalem/Original Character(s)
Comments: 294
Kudos: 66





	1. Leaving Macedonia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaryssaD17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaryssaD17/gifts).



> Hey guys! I hope you're all doing well. I've been looking for a while for a fanfic of KoH and the good ones are rare to find so I decided to write my own.  
> The events of the movie will be modified in order to fit this storyline. I wanted to add also that this story will eventually go through a serious process of editing after I reach a certain point. For this, I'm sorry for the scenes that may look sloppy, in all honesty, I am not entirely satisfied by the way I write certain things (especially battles and fight scenes.)  
> Nevertheless, medieval stories are incredibly fun to write and I hope you find it as enjoyable as I do.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our protagonist, Aspasia, had decided that she was done with her life as a Templar and makes a big exit. Unfortunately, it isn't easy to escape her past and the people who hope to tie her down.

_Somewhere in the mountains Belassitsa, Macedonia 1184_

The sensation of the wind blowing in her hair, the rapid heart palpitations and the sound of her own laugh were what motivated Aspasia to do what she was doing. For her, the money, the kill and the escape were entirely part of the thrill. Tonight, Aspasia had taken with her everything valuable in her room she could put her hand one, sneaked into the stables to steal the strongest and most beautiful horse, and took off after having set fire to the kitchen.

She did not look back at the guards chasing her on foot. Their shouts faded as her new beloved horse, Pegasus, rode into the distance. People had told her great stories about this jet black horse, praised its courage in face of battle and its ability to climb hills. This was the first time she was experiencing this herself. It was, indeed, a very good horse. One that the leader of her branch of the Order, her own father, liked very much. Aspasia had been thought that stealing was not right, but stealing Pegasus never felt so good. It surpassed everything, especially considering the fact that once her father would be alerted of her escape, he would send someone to retrieve her and the stolen horse.

She rode for a few hours, but she would have ridden the whole night if Pegasus were not tired. There was finally enough distance between her and the Order, although the reality was that no distance would ever be sufficient. Looking around her, Aspasia made she did not attract any unwanted attention from night travellers and led to horse off the path, into the woods. From there, she would climb the cliff, build a fire and spend the night there. Pegasus allowed itself to be guided into the forest and climbed on higher grounds without too much difficulty. She could not cease to be impressed. If she had known that Pegasus was as smart as a man, she would have taken him a long time ago.

"You're a good friend, are you not," she patted it lovingly on its neck. It wasn't a question, more of a statement. As they reached a more comfortable spot where the land was more flat, Aspasia got off Pegasus, tied it to a branch and began to set camp. She started with the fire and allowed herself to relax for the first time since her escape. The images of the event raced in her head. The stealthy attacks, the infiltration of the stables and the fire she started in the kitchens to distract the guards.

"I am so smart," she laughed almost sarcastically. She liked to think of herself as a rather cunning woman. Tonight proved her own belief. The panic in the guards' eyes brought her satisfaction. She hated the men working for the Order, and she hated her job enough to make everyone there miserable _with_ her. She giggled quietly as she adjusted her position, using a wood log to support her back. Pegasus remained quiet, enough for her to forget the creature was even here. Aspasia opened her bag. Inside, she found items she had stolen from the Order: food and clothes and jewelry, which she planned to sell if she ever needed drachmae. She picked the bread that was wrapped in linen and cut it in two. "Tonight, it's going to be just bread," she said, a slight hint of disappointment in her voice. Looking at Pegasus, she tossed half of the bread to the horse and kept the second half for herself.

She listened to her heartbeat quiet down; it contrasted with the quiet of the night. There was the sound of the wind shaking the tall grass and the leaves, then maybe an owl, and finally the horse's hooves against a dried branch. Aspasia pulled her back against her chest, hoping it would keep her warm and looked at the flames in front of her slowly dancing. If she were to head more south, past the mountains, she would reach Greece, and even further from there, the Greek islands. It hit her how the Order had people dispatched everywhere. They would easily find her if she stayed long on the territory. She had to move away somewhere rather far away. Maybe Athens. Or Crete. She thought to herself living on an island did not sound so bad, as long as there were sunshine and drachmae.

Slowly, Aspasia began to doze off. Her thoughts went from the ideal place to go to, to the means by which she will head there and finally how she would be making a living. She was used to taking orders from above and executing those orders but for the first time, she had a myriad of options displayed in front of her. She could truly do everything now, head anywhere, associate herself with anyone and live by her own rules. It was both scary and exciting for her.

Hours passed perhaps, Aspasia was not sure of it. She opened her eyes slightly when Pegasus puffed but closed them back when noticing it was still night. Pegasus moved a bit and stepped on another branch on the ground. Suddenly, the sensation that all of that was not for nothing made Aspasia vividly aware of her surroundings. Something happened that was making Pegasus nervous. She stood up and pushed her hair away from her face when she noticed a man standing near the horse, attempting to calm it down.

She squinted her eyes and focused her gaze on his face. A sentiment of dread mixed with annoyance made her say: "you've got to be shittin' me right here." The man turned his head to look at her and grinned. Aspasia hated him with every fibre of her being. She hated absolutely everything about him, from his stupid smirk, his frizzy hair, his wrinkles that showed when he mocked her, his patronizing tone of voice and the fact that he always found a way to provoke her. "Akakios, don't touch that horse, it doesn't belong to you."

The man named Akakios shrugged his shoulders and focused on Pegasus again. He put cereals in his hand and brought it to Pegasus' mouth. The horse ate the food from the palm and seemed to calm down at the touch of the stranger. "I would have gutted you the moment I got here. Unfortunately, my orders are clear and your father would not be too happy if you were to die on me. Please don't make my job harder than it is. I do want to warn you that if you even attempt to kill me, I will slaughter you instantly."

She wanted to laugh. Provoke him? He was the one taunting her and making her blood boil. Aspasia stood up slowly and circled the fire in the center. She felt like a she-wolf, circling her prey, her eyes on Akakios. He was doing the same to her, and that was something she did not like. Not one bit. If Akakios wanted to kill her, anything she would say would be enough to justify his actions. He would have come up with an excuse, and he would have gotten away with only a warning because he was a valuable member of the Order.

"Oh please, as if you had the balls to even defy someone above you."

Aspasia never thought it was smart of her to insult someone much older and stronger than her, but she could not help it. Akakios had always been an arse-kisser, especially to Aspasia's father. The coward was not even attempting to hide it, on most days. He was a small rock in a shoe for most people, but to Aspasia, he was like an arrow stuck in her rib cage: a pain, impossible to remove and even deadly.

"You think I don't have the guts to count to your father of your last fight with me, and how you perished as I attempted to save my life? Believe me, everyone knows how much of a pain you can be and no one will miss your shitty attitude."

His snarky remarks did not phase her. Aspasia felt the hidden blade inside her sleeve. She wished she had on her something bigger and more deadly. Unfortunately, everything was in her bag and if Akakios saw her open it and pull out her weapons, he would strike first. For a moment, she was glad to see if was just Akakios who was after her. If she killed him, she would not feel any remorse. Aspasia realized it was the moment to ask her about what the Order planned to do with her.

"You're on your own? That's strange."

"The others will join me soon," he divulged, "but you'll be dead before you get to see them, I assure you."

Something inside her head clicked. Akakios was going to leave with just the horse - or at least that's what he thought was going to happen. It was clear that they both hated each other and in, either way, it was in their interest to never cross paths again.

"I have a deal to offer you," Aspasia said.

Akakios raised an eyebrow. "A deal?"

"Yes. You and I both know that it is best we don't see each other again. If you bring me back, you will have to deal with me, and if you don't, you will deal with my father's wrath. My proposition is that you take the horse, and pretend I'm dead. I'm going to go away and never return to Macedonia. Doesn't that sound good?"

Akakios thought about it for a minute. Aspasia watched him in silence as his face went through several expressions. She hoped that leaving with Pegasus would bring him satisfaction. After all, the horse was of value and Aspasia was easily replaceable within the ranks.

"I don't think I will," finally said Akakios, breaking the silence. Aspasia watched him in horror. "You hate coming back more than I hate having you around. This is enough to convince me I should not let you go so easily."

"I'm going to tell you what you are doing," Aspasia hissed at him.

Akakios had an amused look on his face. He rarely listened to what she had to say but now it was just the two of them and the situation was far more entertaining than he expected.

"Oh yes, please do tell me what I am doing."

"A big, _big_ mistake. Big mistake. My father would have you punished if you brought him my head."

That was a bluff but she wanted to believe that herself. A deep laugh came out of Akakios, as he put his hand on his chest and threw his head back. He was far too comfortable for Aspasia's liking. She wanted him to fear her because she was trained at fighting. She hated the fact that she was the only one to be nervous. It made her doubt her skills and be too reactive.

She told herself in her internal monologue that it was something she had to work on. Always show more confidence than her opponent. Or at least fake that confidence. It threw off people and she would always have the upper hand in a situation.

"You want to cooperate? But this is... is... FANTASTIC! I never saw today as the day in which Aspasia would stop being a total pain in the arse." He pulled out a sword from the scabbard he had at his waist and dropped said scabbard on the ground. He was not yet pointing his sword at Aspasia but she could sense the threat coming. "No. No deal. You just have to shut the fuck up and not make my life more difficult than it is." 

Aspasia revealed her own blade and pointed it straight at his head. "In that case, you'll have to force me. I won't go down without a fight."

Akakios moved his sword swiftly across the fire, sending in her directly tiny pieces of wood and hot rocks. Little flames started on the sleeve of her clothes but Aspasia extinguished them quickly.

As soon as she looked upon again, Akakios held his sword above his head and began to charge at her. She duked his blows that came from left and right with difficulty. As he was about to aim for her head, Aspasia used her blade to block him. His sword glided against her blade instead, making an aggressive sound of two pieces of metal clashing.

"You seem tired," noted Akakios. There was a hint of humour in his tone. Aspasia despised that.

"I'm just a bit sore. You ruined my sleep."

She used that opportunity to attack him this time. She used the leather gauntlet to push away his sword and used her free hand to plant the blade in his exposed neck. Akakios was quick though: he dodged her hit and swiftly managed to grab her behind the knees and flip her.

Aspasia landed painfully on her back. She found herself slipping off the hill, but quickly stood up and charged at Akakios. Every hit, he managed to block. He then grabbed her arm, threw her blade away and held her firmly against his chest.

"You think you're so tough, huh? Well..."

Aspasia felt panicked. Without her weapon, Akakios could easily do to her whatever he wished. Kill her, strangle her, or worse: drag her back to the Order. She was not ready to face the consequences there.

"You know very well I don't know when to give up," she said, attempted to catch a breath as Akakios held her by the throat. With no time left, she used one hand to grab a handful of dirt and threw it in Akakios' face, some of it getting in his nose, eyes and mouth. His grip slowly loosened and Aspasia used that opportunity to escape him. She used her foot to make him fall on the ground, and held his arm high. 

"What do you think you're doing, brat??" hissed Akakios.

Crack!

Holding him by the wrist, Aspasia kicked him powerfully where his elbow was. The sound of bones cracking was followed by his scream. She was convinced she had broken something and this made her feel proud.

"Oh, I wish I had done this to you a long time ago," she admitted, "you have always been such a boot-licker, it's insufferable!"

She grabbed a handful of hair and lifted his head up. Then she kicked him in the face, making him bleed from the nose. She did that once, then twice, until he was very bloody and unrecognizable.

"You were never beautiful, so I don't pity you," she taunted.

Akakios looked beaten and dreadful. Aspasia knocked him on the back of his head to make sure he was unable to move and stand up. He was about to collapse on the ground, barely capable of standing on his two feet. Aspasia ran to Pegasus and untied it from the tree. 

"Akakios... I really feel sorry for you," she spoke as she pet Pegasus to calm the horse down, "I think you have the worst luck in the world. If you ask me, I think you deserve it. Really, you do. You have always been a piece of crap to me. When I tell you to leave me alone, you better fucking do it."

She rolled Akakios over to have him facing up, then tied to reins to his feet. Akakios seemed to begin to realize what was going on because he started to panic. Aspasia walked to Pegasus and slapped it on its thigh. The horse stood up on its back feet, then took off, dragging behind Akakios who was half-conscious at this point, his head hitting branches and rocks on his path.

Aspasia allowed herself to fall on the ground, finally breathing more calmly. The rapid palpitations of her heart made her vividly aware of what had just taken place: she had just tied Akakios to the horse and sentenced him to death. The chances of him surviving until the horse grew tired of running were low. 

Now, Aspasia did not have a horse, but she was free. She knew she would have to cross the mountains to get to Greece, and it would be more difficult on foot. Bandits roamed the region. Not only that, but Templars were after her.

She sighed as she thought of all the walking she would have to do. Aspasia looked up into the sky and wondered if other Templars were coming after her, at that exact moment. There was no time to waste, however. She packed her back, lit torch and prepared to leave camp. As she was about to climb down the hill, she noticed something shiny on the ground. It was a shiny jewel, red in colour, and roughly sculpted.

_It must have fallen from Akakios' pocket,_ she thought. She picked it up, put it in her own pocket, and did not give the jewel a second thought.

←→

**_Aspasia, for those who were curious about what she might look like._ **   
**_Light brown hair that is a bit curly, shoulder-length, and a bit of a Mediterranean look to her._ **

**_The actress' name is Ariane Labed, you may recognize her from the movie Assassin's Creed where she played Maria._ **


	2. Tavern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia managed to cross the border to Greece and hopes to hop on a ship and leave. She cannot consider herself safe from danger yet, however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came up with the idea of the chapter last minute and so it was exciting to write. I was hoping it would also show her character more, but I'm trying to build that slowly, but steadily.

_Greater Athens, Greece, 1184_

When Aspasia arrived at Athens, she began to look for a place to stay the night. The feeling of homesickness hit her, soon followed by doubts: was it the right thing to leave? Was she heading in the right direction? Athens has always been a big city, and she could easily blend in if she tried. What she did fear, however, was that she might be underestimating the number of Templars that roamed Attika. People spoke of the Teutonic knights that traversed the Balkans and crossed the sea, but that did not exclude the possibility of running in a Templar knight.

It was almost night when she arrived at a small tavern, hidden somewhere between the streets. As she walked inside, she noted that the customers were men. They sat with a beer at their tables and chatted livelily, no one paid attention to the woman who had just walked in, tired and dirty from the long trip. The smell of alcohol and of warm food made Aspasia notice how tired she really was. She walked inside and headed to the stand where stools were placed, and a woman was working and chatting with clients. Perhaps she was the owner. A few men interacted with her; they appeared to be close and familiar with the woman.

Aspasia pulled a stool and sat there, waiting to be served. She set her bag at her feet and ordered the cheapest dish they had to offer. "Oh my, a traveller," spoke the woman in Greek, "I'll tell you what: I want to hear a good story about your travels, and if it is interesting enough, I will add to your dish alcohol and dessert of your choice. Both will be local specialties!"

Aspasia cracked her knuckles and bit her lower lip. She had a few good stories to share, but she couldn't allow herself to divulge too much about her past life. "It doesn't sound like you meet travellers often," she pointed out at the woman, hoping that stalling would give her more time to come up with something.

The latter smiled and adjusted her apron on her waist. Compared to Aspasia, who was thin and athletic, this woman was quite round and robust. "I do, but I crave to hear stories. Think of it as a form of currency. Or a way to convince me to obtain a good - in this situation, food. Care to tell me where you are from? I like your accent."

Aspasia was hesitating; she did not know why. The woman could aways guess, based on her accent, from which region of Europe she came from, but then again, Aspasia did not want to tell her the whole truth. In reality, Aspasia could quickly shift from Greek to Macedonian, which was a Greek dialect. She thought to herself she would have to pay more attention to her pronunciation of words. It was something she did not think she would have to be careful of. She argued that her bag and her clothes gave away that part of her identity anyway.

"I came from Thessalokini," and it was a good lie. The city was not far from Macedonia, and many Macedonians crossed the border to conduct business in that city. The woman seemed to accept the answer. She handed Aspasia a plate with roasted meat and vegetables. The dish seemed slightly fuller than Aspasia expected, and she believed the woman might have served her a bigger portion. The reason for doing so did not matter, Aspasia was grateful.

"That is, indeed, far away from here. You came here by ship?"

"Ship and land," Aspasia answer. "Oh, I have a good story to share!"

The tale had to do with an encounter with pirates that had been stuck on a smaller island in the Aegean sea. She explained to the woman that they had lost a treasure at sea, and she was the only one brave - and stupid - enough to jump in the water and retrieve it before it was lost for good. When she had resurfaced, she opened the case and discovered that the pirates had been smuggling an ancient sculpture of a Minoan bull. It explained why the box was heavy and could not float on its own. Aspasia had to push it to the surface, risking drowning herself, and being caught by sharks. When she reached the surface, she was fished back on the boat, and the pirates had taken her to the island Skyros where they gave her food and shelter for free.

As she told her story, a few men had come to join the conversation. It did not take long for Aspasia to have a crowd to who she could speak of her adventures.

"This is fantastic! How was the statue?" asked a man.

"Beautiful. Amazing craftsmanship," said Aspasia, "we have to admire how well it was preserved, after such a long time."

The woman, who had her back turned to Aspasia, brought her a plate of baklava and a carafe of Greek wine. She had been listening to her since the very beginning. "Do you consider yourself a risk-taker?" she asked Aspasia.

Aspasia thought about it. It was a very polite way of saying that she was foolish on occasions. It was a flaw she was aware of. "Yes, you can say so," Aspasia said, hoping not to spark a debate. "The meal was marvellous. You have my gratitude."

The woman smiled. "I assume you are looking for a place to spend the night, no?"

"Yes, that is my plan."

"Then, how about I give you the extra room here? It is not much, but you will have a bed, and you will be able to wash yourself and your clothes."

Aspasia's eyes opened wide. "Really?" The woman nodded. "God bless you for your hospitality."

That night, Aspasia climbed upstairs and took the empty room in the house. As promised, she had a bed and water to wash herself and her clothes. While she hung them to dry, the woman who had welcomed her stayed with her to keep her company. Aspasia continued telling her stories about her previous travels, omitting the part where she used to be a Templar and had done murder in the past. She did not need to scare her host.

"Do you often have travellers staying here?" Aspasia asked.

The woman laid her head back against the wall and thought about the answer: "yes, we do. Most of them come to the tavern to eat and drink, but they leave for the outskirts of Athens. Perhaps they search for a cheaper place, or they camp at night."

Aspasia was tired of camping. Her back hurt, and she missed the warmth of a bed.

"They usually head for the Holy Land, so no one stays in Athens for long," added the woman.

"There is war there," noted Aspasia.

"This land seems to attract knights and pilgrims. I heard the King has requested for Christians to head there. I tend to think they are in big trouble there."

"Is it this serious?"

The woman nodded her head.

Aspasia knew a few things about the Crusades, but she always underestimated the gravity of the situation. She never left her home Macedonia and never spoke to anyone coming from the outside. "I assume there is a lot of money to be made there," chuckled Aspasia.

"Oh, you bet there is."

Something in Aspasia's head clicked. Like two pieces of a puzzle. Jerusalem seemed like the perfect place to head to. If she were to go there, it would put enough distance between her and her father. She would be able to blend there and do odd jobs to live.

The woman stood up from her chair and stretched her arms behind her head. "I will leave you for the night, if you need anything, don't hesitate to come and find me. Sweet dreams, Aspasia."

"Thank you again," Aspasia bowed her head respectfully at her.

The woman yawned and walked out of the room. Aspasia scratched the back of her neck, feeling a bit uneasy for some reason. She looked at her bag, which she left unopened, and thought about the weapons that were inside. Her dirty clothes had been set to dry, and she was wearing a simple white shirt and stiff pants. Her boots were next to the bed.

She blew on the candle that lit half of the room and laid under the covers. That night, she had trouble falling asleep, and she could not understand why. Aspasia stood up from her bed and looked at the clothes that were set to dry. The temperature at night was quite warm. She wanted to check if they were still wet, several hours later.

As she set her left foot on the wooden floor, it creaked softly. Aspasia was tense and attempted to make as little noise as possible to not wake up anyone. She touched the clothes and found that they were dry.

Knowing she would not be able to sleep this night, she decided to fold them neatly and put them in her bag. She had hidden inside her gauntlet with the hidden blade. Aspasia had been too scared to take it out or wear it in public, but she realized it needed a bit of cleaning as well.

She put on her boots, hating to walk barefoot, and headed downstairs to find the kitchen. There had to be an old towel or piece of fabric which she could use to clean the blade of her sword. 

She was about to walk out the door when she heard the wooden floor creak from the outside of the room. Aspasia tensed up, realizing the sound did not come from beneath her feet. She was not the only one awake in the house.

A voice came from the outside, and she recognized the voice of the woman and the sound of another man. It was her husband, whom Aspasia saw and greeted, but had not spoken to him long enough to get to know him. They seemed to be talking in a rapid and hushed way, almost not to be heard. There was something about their topic of discussion that led Aspasia to believe they were pressed to do something. It was rude to eavesdrop, but Aspasia could almost deduce they were talking about her.

"... sure it is ... ran elsewhere ... no, no, from ... kios, yes, I heard..."

She could barely make out what they were saying. Despite focusing all her attention on their hushed voices, most words remained unclear. The sense that there was trouble she was not aware of troubled her. Was the couple facing problems, and she was utterly oblivious to it?

"... instructions from up ... they haven't reached the location yet ... yes, yes, they are ... seriously, I don't know what to do in the meantime..."

Aspasia did not move from the spot where she was standing until the couple left. The uneasiness of her situation settled as the sound of their footsteps walking away faded. Her eyes returned to the sword that needed cleaning and suddenly, leaving her room did not look like a very bright idea.

The bright moon outside illuminated half of the bedroom and branches of a nearby tree made shadows move on the wooden floor. Leaning now against the wall, she observed the landscape of Athens, buildings upon buildings that stretched out into the distance. The cities in Macedonia did not compare in size to it. The quiet streets were eerie at night, in contrast to the activity that took place during the day. As she looked around, she hid in the shadows when she saw a man in dark clothes walk in the direction of the tavern. The man looked like a traveller but he did not carry any baggage with him.

There was something unusual about a traveller walking the streets at night. Most would start a fire outside the city and camp for the night. Unless he was supposed to meet with someone. Aspasia's eyebrows knotted together. A traveller who is heading here empty-handed. Something was not right. Her heart started beating fast in her chest. She looked at her unmade bed and her bag next to it. _All her belongings were inside_.

There was one knock on the door downstairs, and someone quickly answered. Something was odd. Aspasia remembered when the woman had kept her company as she set her washed clothes to dry by the window. Later, when she left the room, she told her 'sweet dreams, Aspasia.' Never once has Aspasia mentioned her name, nor did she know the woman's name.

"... second door... no, not too loud... for my sake... yes, the bag..."

Aspasia did not waste another second. She grabbed her stuff, climbed up the window, then jumped. The moment she did that, the door of her room burst open. After that, it was followed by shouts of a man whom she was not familiar with.

She did not look behind her for a second. The man in black clothes was chasing her. Hoping to slow him down, she climbed up the walls of a building, climbed onto the roof, and from that, she jumped from one rooftop to another, feeling her backpack weighing her down. It was difficult to land quietly when she had gained momentum. She heard screams behind her, enough to wake up the whole street, and saw that a man in black clothes at her trail.

An arrow instantly flew in her direction. Aspasia dodged it on the last moment and continued running. She felt at that moment a mixture of panic and anger. Panic because she had Templars chasing her from all directions and anger because the woman betrayed her. She was also angry at herself for having ignored all the signs that showed the woman was trying to lure her in: the big amount of food, the free stay at her own house, the fact that she knew her name but not the other way around. Aspasia was supposed to be aware of that tactic: women tended to trust other women and Aspasia had often used that technique when she was on a job, years ago. She was a fool for letting her guard down this time.

Another arrow almost hit her. She landed on another rooftop, rolling on the ground, then picking herself up quickly to escape. All her weapons were in her bag but she did not have the time to stop and put on her hidden glade. She had to run, escape Athens, and get on a boat to a safer place. A place like Crete was perhaps a good idea. 

Aspasia kept running but soon she was caught by a faceless figure. The man had jumped on her and made them roll on the roof until they felt down on the street from two stories. The impact was hard, it pushed out all the air from her lungs and Aspasia fought to get some air.

The man climbed on top of her and straddled her. His hands were on his neck and he pinned her down to the ground. Aspasia could not do anything except put her own hands to suffocate him. She felt her cheeks turn hot. She desperately attempted to see the face of the man who attacked her but there was no light on the street and his hood kept his face in the dark.

Aspasia saw he had a hidden blade in a secret pocket near his elbow. "Don't. You. Dare." hushed the man as he tightened his grip around her neck. Aspasia did the same to him. She mustered all her energy to spit back to him:

"I'll kill you before you get to take me back." The words came out broken and forced. Aspasia knew she was lying because at that moment, she was ready to give up and let him knock her out, but she had not made this trip so far only to declare defeat.

"You were always a stubborn one. Everyone hated you."

Aspasia used her knee to kick him between his legs. She did not reach that fatal spot but it was close enough to make the man lose his grip of her. She then rolled the two of them on the ground, straddled him and swiftly took in her hand the hidden dagger in the secret pocket of his clothes. His face was exposed to the light but she quickly realized she barely recognized the man. She was convinced it was someone with whom she barely interacted.

The dagger in her hand, she aimed for his eye. He was quick and agile, that he managed to move her hand as she stabbed him, moving it from above his eyes to where his neck was. His attempt to save his own life did not matter, because the knife penetrated the skin of his neck and blood came gushing out in jets. She must have hit an artery.

"You fucking ruined by clothes," she hissed at him, strangling him even more. "How many of you are there, huh?"

The man shut his eyes closed and hissed as the pain began to take over his body. "Stop this. Stop. You killed me. Stop this." 

Aspasia laughed. "Sounds almost like a plea. Listen, I would love to help you, but you see, I don't take it well when someone attempts to murder me. I think the same can be said about anyone. You don't deserve to live."

"You're not the one to judge," he interjected. More blood was coming out, forming a pool around his head. His voice grew fainter by the second. 

"Fuck you," she hissed at him. She then spat on his face and gave him one last punch that put him to sleep for good. The man would not survive until the morning, he was losing too much blood that no medicine could save him.

Aspasia stood up and attempted to clean her hands from the blood but she looked in a sorry state. She felt stupid for having trusted people she should not have trusted. She also felt stupid for having let her guard down. And she felt stupid for having thought that Athens was safe for her.

Looking down at the Templar who was not quite dead yet, she kicked his head, splashing some blood on a wall in the process, and walked away. She quickly put on her gauntlet, convinced it was best to never take it off, and walked towards the gates of the city. If she headed south, she was going to have to come across a port. There she was going to take a boat somewhere, wherever it may lead her.

←→

The first rays of sun shone upon the port and Aspasia was rinsing her shirt in the seawater. Dried blood tainted the water and Aspasia told herself it was best if she just got rid of it, for it was beyond repair. Fishermen were heading to the boats with fishnets and a bit further down the coast, there was a big port with many ships.

"Excuse me!" called Aspasia in Greek, "where do these ships head for?"

She pointed with her index finger at one of the sails and the Greek fishermen squinted his eyes to see what she was speaking of.

"The majority of them are heading to Cyprus or to Jerusalem. Are you heading in that direction?"

Aspasia nodded.

"Speak to the captain. If you have enough drachmae, you may be able to climb aboard."

And with that, Aspasia wished them farewell and headed for the port. She found a man standing near a ship, shouting orders to other men who seemed to be carrying heavy items.

"Got drachmae?" he asked Aspasia.

She took out a pouch with coins and placed it in the palm of his hand. "I hope this would suffice."

"It should be enough. Climb aboard and don't cause any troubles to me or my crew."

Aspasia nodded and climb on the ship. She made up her mind that a good place to head to was Jerusalem. From there, she would be doing whatever she could to make more money. She was aware that Templars were everywhere: if she could not escape them in Athens, she would never escape them truly. What mattered was that the knights that were in Jerusalem did not know her and so she had the luxury to remain anonymous.

She looked into the horizon, in the direction of the Holy City, and began wondering what awaited for her on foreign lands.


	3. The Holy City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia arrives in Jerusalem and finally gets a taste of the quiet and normal life she dreamed of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was an absolute pain to write, not because it isn't packed with action but rather because I have to prepare everything and set things in place for what is coming.

_Jerusalem, Kingdom of Jerusalem, 1184_

When the ship docked in the port of Tyre, Aspasia searched for a caravan of pilgrims to take her to Jerusalem. She quickly realized that most people did not speak Greek, but those that did were often times scholars. The languages spoken in the country were Latin and Arabic, while a small minority of people were fluent in Hebrew, Syriac, Armenian and French. She had made herself as small as possible to avoid attracting unwanted attention. The sentiment of loneliness hit her with the realization that she was far from home, and could barely communicate in full sentences to anyone. Her pouch that used to be full of coins was lighter than before: soon she would run out of drachmae. She hoped merchants here accepted drachmae.

Knights followed the caravan of pilgrims, wearing the Templar uniform and holding flags with the familiar red cross on the white background. They all headed in the same direction, taking the same road that led to the south. The sight of the Templar insignia made the young woman shiver a bit. Memories of her life in Macedonia were too fresh in her memory. She had worn that red cross on her clothes herself in the past. Fortunately, they were too far from Macedonia for the Templar knights to recognize her. She was safe for now.

Days after, they began to approach a piece of land that had more greenery, and a bit further, they saw houses. Aspasia looked around to see the other pilgrims and scrutinized their faces. They appeared to be just as tired as she was. “How far are we from Jerusalem?” she asked the man walking near her in a broken Latin. He looked at her, attempting to guess what she intended to say. He raised his hand and with his index finger, he pointed in distance. She looked as the houses seemed to stretch into the distance. They must be near Jerusalem.

As they approached their destinations, they came across several other caravans of pilgrims. Some were Europeans while some were Muslim. Among them, there were knights that appeared to have travelled on foot, but many wore the flags of their Order. She recognized the Hospitalier and the Teutonic Order by their colours. “Is Jerusalem as great as they say it is?” she asked the man innocently. She began to hesitate if it was a good idea to get there. Everything seemed to overwhelm her, from the people who were devoted to their religion to fighting the war.

The man smiled at her and spoke to her in perfect Greek: “even better.”

Aspasia was shocked. She could not believe the man had not told her he could understand her. She watched him walk past her and head to the front. Her gaze followed the back of his head, and as she looked into the distance, she saw the walls that surrounded the city. The gates were wide open. It was a wide entrance, enough for the people outside to catch a glimpse.

←→

The moment she reached the city, Aspasia looked around a little bit lost. She was out of money, out of food, and needed to make sure she had a shelter for tonight. She has been told that the hospital welcomed both the travellers and the sick. It was perhaps her only way of assuring she would be sleeping on a bed. Walking through the busy streets, she tried to catch a glimpse of what life in this city was and how it compared to Macedonia. It was both good and bad. Aspasia missed the greenery and the people of Macedonia, but her home country was almost dead. She was walking into a bazaar and people seemed livelier and fuller of emotions. As she looked at the products sold at the market, she tried to guess what the exotic fruits and spices were.

When she came across a stand that sold jewelry, she approached the man who was busy with clients and spoke to him in Latin: “sorry, you buy jewelry?”

“Me? _Buy_ jewelry?” repeated the man.

“Yes. I have jewelry.” She then proceeded to show him the pouch in which she kept her necklaces and earrings and rings. She felt her heart tighten when she realized she was going to have to say goodbye to them. She never had the opportunity to wear them in the past but had grown fond of them, nevertheless. Her own mother loved jewelry; it was one thing Aspasia had in common with her. “I travel here, and I need to … throw? No. Get rid. Yes! Get rid of… All this. I don’t need jewelry,” she stumbled on her words. Her cheeks turned pink, but at least the merchant understood what she was trying to say.

“How much?” he asked, pointing at the shiniest necklace. The light reflected in the precious stone. Aspasia tried to come up with a price.

“All of the necklaces for … two drachmae,” she answered.

“ _Drachmae_?”

Of course, they did not use drachmae in Jerusalem. How stupid was she to forget that? She began negotiating with the merchant. The man ended up purchasing all her goods and Aspasia had enough Crusader coins to allow her to survive more or less two weeks. She watched the man sell her favourite necklace to a rich woman who wore fancy silk. Knowing that staying there any further was only going to make her feel worse, she left, searching for a hospital where she would spend the night.

When finally finding it, it was past noon, and the nuns managing it asked her to pay directly for her stay. There, she was assigned a bed and was told to beware of those who were sick if she did not wish to catch their sickness. Aspasia then took a bath and put on clean clothes, before leaving her items there while she went to search for a forum where they had job offers. As she stepped out of the hospital grounds, two things struck her. The first thing was that the fashion in this country differed drastically from the type of clothes she had brought with her. That meant women tended to wear tunics of lin with oriental designs while she wore a white, long-sleeved, shirt with dark pants and footwear that was not appropriate for the weather. The second thing was that she still had in the pocket of her pants the jewel she picked up from Akakios. If she hadn’t forgotten about it, she would have sold it, along with all her jewelry.

That was too bad. She could always return there and sell it later.

With only her hidden blade and a dagger to defend herself, she headed to a public square where she knew she could find a forum. She did not expect to find the place crowded, as it was only Sunday and most people left the church at noon and headed home. As she made her way through the crowd, she saw several mercenaries looking for jobs as well. Aspasia could not help but compare herself to them. Many seemed much bulkier and better built, which would make them important pawns for an army. She wondered why these men preferred to accomplish odd jobs instead of joining the military and earn a salary.

Aspasia quickly learned that most jobs did not involve fighting or killing. Instead, they revolved around rescuing a person or an animal, deliver letters or run errands. On the first day, she had already done three jobs and earned a reasonable amount of money. Perhaps it was for the best – she did not wish to return to her life of killing any time too soon.

At night, she would eat and head back to the Hospital. There, she would do her laundry and bathe. If she felt generous enough, she would offer to help the nuns in their job. They would ask her to do some laundry for a sick person or help in the kitchen by cutting vegetables. “You don’t strike me as the type of woman who would devote herself to religion,” noted the nun who Aspasia was helping.

Was Aspasia going to lie? It felt wrong to lie to a woman who served God. Besides, the nun had been sweet to her since the beginning. “I came here to start over,” she said. That was not a lie. The nun did not need to know the whole truth, however.

“I hope you will find an answer in Jerusalem.”

This gave Aspasia something to think about before going to bed. She told herself it would be wise to save money and purchase a house somewhere. She needed her own place to stay. It made her wonder how other pilgrims managed to travel here and live their life? Did they go through the same struggles as her? With a different language, money, jobs.

She learned that Jerusalem was divided into four quarters: one was the Muslim quarter, then the Jewish quarter, the Armenian Quarter and the Christian Quarter. It seemed more appropriate to her to live in the Armenian quarter for she shared more things in common with them than the other groups, but the language barrier remained an issue.

Several days passed and Aspasia started to habituate to her new lifestyle. She never thought she would be delivering letters, packages or helping people out in any way possible, but she grew accustomed to this new rhythm her life took. By the end of the week, she had earned enough money to consider looking for a more permanent place to stay. After she had spoken to one of the nuns, she was advised a place where to look for. That day again, she left her items and headed out. Aspasia realized that she began to enjoy the quiet in her life. It used to be about daily arguments or fights with other Templars. Now, she was left to her own devices and it suited her much better because Aspasia was becoming more aware that she was terrible at taking orders.

As she reached the forum to see if the publications had been updated, she noticed an unusual man standing there already, looking at the job offers a bit too long. Not that there was anything wrong to be an unusual man. Jerusalem was a big place and so long he did not disturb the peace. He wore similar clothes to her: dark pants and a white shirt, but he also wore a short cape, which Aspasia assumed was insufferable under the heat of the Sun. Decided to ignore him, she approached the board and paid no attention to him.

“Are you looking for a job?” asked the man.

Aspasia wanted to roll her eyes. So much precaution for nothing. There was something about him that only meant they would see each other again in the future. She turned around, despite wanting to ignore him and walk away. He had olive skin but blond locks, indicating he was of European descent. Aspasia could not tell where he was from exactly because he spoke in perfect Latin. “Yes, and you too, I assume.” She paused after she spoke, hesitating a bit. She wasn’t sure she had made a grammatical mistake.

“You see, I just posted a job offer a second before you came, and I was looking for the perfect person to pass by. Maybe it was meant to be. I have a very important task for only the most capable person.”

As if he understood she struggled with Latin, the man spoke slowly and articulated. “What kind of task is it? A delivery?”

“No, it’s … bigger than that.”

Aspasia raised an eyebrow. What could he possibly mean by that? “I am curious, but I have doubts,” she said honestly.

“I will pay you for his job. I have many coins, and I will pay you at the beginning, AND after the job is done. I’m sure you are in need of gold, are you not?”

He was not wrong about that. Yet, this was a vague statement, and it could be applied to anyone.

“Yes, like most people.”

The man smiled kindly. “I want to offer you an opportunity to make gold if you would accept to at least hear me out?”


	4. Phillip and Tiberias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia is tasked to murder a public figure and she begins to question if she had made the right decision to accept this mission.

Aspasia bit her lower lip and looked down at her hands. With her fingers, she was playing with the creases that formed on her pants. A million thoughts were racing in her head. The man whose name was Phillip was waiting for an answer.

"I have to tell you that I have not done anything like that in years. And I vowed never to do it again," she spoke softly, but her eyes showed how serious she was. The offer to kill a public figure would have been appealing to any mercenary. As a former Templar, she was capable and trained to do that. Yet, she came to Jerusalem to start all over and live as quietly as possible. The reason why the Templars in Jerusalem haven't found her was that they had not received word of her yet. As long as she did not give them a reason to search for her, she was safe.

Now that Phillip had divulged her everything about his plan, she had no choice but to embark. It was as if he knew that Aspasia's moral compass was flawed. She lacked ambition and willingly followed other people's dreams. She cursed herself for giving up so easily her goal of a quiet life just to earn more gold. If she had gold, she could do so many things. And if things were to turn for the worst, she would run away as she did before. She owned few things and could easily sail at sea for foreign lands.

"I suppose now that you told me, I have to accept. Otherwise, you will kill me," she spoke.

Phillip did not move or react. It was a tacit message, and Aspasia folded her arms and laid back on the bench. The two of them were sitting in a church, quiet and empty because it was Monday afternoon.

"The irony to make such a deal in a holy place. It is almost like an insult. Are you a believer, Phillip?" she asked.

He relaxed in his seat and mimicked her sitting position: back laid on the bench and legs crossed. "I wish I could say I was, but I saw what people in this world are capable of doing. With time, I realized that it is better to do evil and ask for forgiveness after, otherwise you will never accomplish anything if you have to wait for permission."

Aspasia nodded. "Your name is Greek. Are you Greek, perhaps?"

Phillip chuckled. "You ask too much about me. I need you to do a job, and I am still waiting for your answer."

"I have to know who I'm working with," Aspasia replied.

"The more you know, the more dangerous the mission becomes. Aren't mercenaries supposed to execute and not question?"

"I am not an ordinary mercenary. And this is no ordinary task. Don't you think I deserve to know what I'm getting into?"

Phillip sighed and scratched the bridge of his nose. "So many questions. I did not know you were so chatty. I understand your curiosity, but I will not be able to tell you more about this. Those were the orders. I need to know if you are willing to do this."

"Otherwise, you will have to kill me?"

"Otherwise, I will have to kill you."

Aspasia chuckled. If he thought he could hire an assassin - an expert at killing - and kill that assassin if ever things were to head south, he was more stupid than he looked. It was a big mistake of his part to underestimate her.

"Tell me who I am to look for."

Phillip showed her a piece of parchment and placed it in her hand. Aspasia read the information on it. "His name is Tiberias. You have the location of his house written here as well. Make sure you are careful when you get there because he does have soldiers keeping an eye on the estate."

"I never heard of this man," said Aspasia, wondering how well-known he was if she hasn't heard of him. There was no drawing of him, Aspasia feared she would have to guess who he is. "Do you have any description of him? How will I know it's him when I see him?"

"Tall man, about my height. Greying hair, a scar along with his eye and eyebrow. He often wears a blue uniform, and unlike his guards that surround his property, he might not be carrying a weapon inside the house. I will pay you half the gold now, and pay you the second half once the job is done. Don't get caught."

He placed on her lap a pouch with coins. Feeling the weight on her, she had shivers running doing her spine as she thought how much gold this task would bring her. Phillip nodded his head at her and walked out of the church, leaving the woman on her own. Aspasia watched him go and thought about it.

She had to locate her target and learn as much as possible about him by observing him. It was the Templar way when she was in Macedonia. She used to execute those missions flawlessly, but now she had some doubts.

What made Phillip chose Aspasia? Perhaps he could see that she was capable of doing this type of job. Or maybe she was unknown to the public of Jerusalem, and no one would find her responsible for committing a crime. Either way, Aspasia left the church richer than she expected, and a difficult task to complete that felt like a weight on her back.

←→

In the evening, Aspasia could not fall asleep for the new mission had consumed all her thoughts. She looked around. On the other beds of the hospital, the others were sleeping. If she accomplished this task, she could, after that, the hunt for a place to stay. Having grown tired of the other travellers and sick people with him she slept with every night, what she longed for was a place which she could call her own.

She rolled on her side and massaged her own upper back as if this gesture would suit her. She thought a bit about her mother, a woman in Macedonia who had died a long time ago due to a disease. Aspasia was little, and she was soon taken by her father to join the Order after her mother was buried. Faint memories of the woman working with dye and fabric or the woman feeding her small dishes came to mind, but these memories were so distant that Aspasia was not sure she could trust them.

It felt as if she had witnessed the childhood of other children and assimilated their memories and made them her own. Her father hadn't spoken about her mother and Aspasia was angry at him for that. All she could do was imagine the woman and invent stories about her childhood to feel as normal as possible.

It was almost morning when Aspasia finally fell asleep. She woke up feeling like a mummy who had been deprived of light and water. Nonetheless, she got out of her bed and went about with her day.

As she walked through the city, she decided to venture through the wealthy quarters, curious to see who she would meet there. There was this possibility to run into this man named Tiberias, but if not, perhaps the rich will require her to accomplish and pay her well for the job.

What took her by surprise was the clothes of the people. Made of the finest silk available on the market, and designs that made people dream of the rich side of Europe. Aspasia looked in awe at women wearing majestic dresses. As they passed her, they giggled to themselves. At first, Aspasia thought it was because of her clothes that showed that she was not from that area, but then she realized it was the fact that she had her mouth wide open as she looked at them. Now embarrassed, she quickly walked away, hoping not to attract any more attention to herself.

In the distance, she could see the royal palace. Aspasia could only imagine walking the hallways of the castle. They represented a whole world of its own, out of reach for a commoner such as herself. 

She walked around the city until evening came. As the sun began to set, the air grew colder, and people began to meet at taverns or inside their home. Tightening her vest around her waist, she began to wonder how she should proceed with the mission. Unpleasant memories of her time as a Templar resurfaced. Phillip reminded her of Akakios: both preferred to keep her in the dark during a mission. Akakios was a stingy man, and that was applicable for both money or merit of a mission. As for Phillip, Aspasia could only guess because she did not know the slightest thing about him. It appeared to her that, after she would complete her task, he would pay her and disappear.

The darkness in the sky thickened, Aspasia found herself avoiding the less illuminated streets. Once in a while, a man on a horse would rush up the hill. When they saw him coming, everyone would stand still against the walls until the horse passed. As this happened several times, Aspasia began to feel annoyed by the careless behaviour of these noblemen. She could not help but notice the dirty looks they would send her, only making herself feel more conscious of her appearance and status.

"TIBERIAS WAS CLEAR WITH THE INSTRUCTIONS," shouted a man to another one, "I'LL HAVE YOU BRING HIM THE LETTER. IT'S A MATTER OF URGENCY!"

Aspasia felt a tingle in her ears as the man on his horse said the magic word. A second man on his grey horse grabbed a letter and put it in his breast-pocket.

"AND TOMORROW, WE ARE LEAVING EARLY."

The two men nodded their heads to each other and separated their ways. Aspasia instantly put her hood on her head and jogged behind the man who carried a letter for Tiberias, while maintaining a safe distance. As she began to pant due to running for a prolonged period of them, she was glad to discover that the man on a horse had reached the estate Phillip spoke of. He got off his horse and allowed a guard to take care of it, then walked inside the garden.

Aspasia hid in a dark alley and watched silently. "Two guards at the front, two guards at the back... Another guard is patrolling the inside of the garden... And how many guards inside?" she whispered thoughtfully to herself. She could only estimate that there could have been at least a guard per story, and perhaps another one protecting Tiberias and following him everywhere. "But who exactly are you, Tiberias?"

Her heart was beating rapidly. She told herself that she saw enough, and it would best to retreat for today.


	5. Infiltration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where Aspasia attempts to assassinate Tiberias.

The sky was pitch black when Aspasia reached the doors of the Hospital. A few nuns were still awake, nursing some patients but aside from that, the rest of the square was asleep. Aspasia tried to calm herself before she could enter the building, whipping the sweat off of her forehead. She thought she had been very sneaky, and she was proud of the information she had collected in a short amount of time.

Her hand stretched out in front of her, almost touching the handle, but she was instantly turned around by an invisible force and pinned to the door behind her. A strong hand around her neck tightened around her neck, almost cutting down the flow of oxygen. Her eyes began to feel watery and panic took over her. Desperately trying to take in some air, she agitated her arms and legs violently to escape the person that had just trapped her. Her eyes settled upon the face of the man that caught her and she hissed. "You. What the fuck." The words came out with difficulty but the man understood her perfectly. Concealed under a hood, Phillip could be perfectly recognizable by the shape of his chin and the colour of his hair.

"Why didn't you kill him?" It sounded less like a question and more like a threat. Aspasia hissed as his grip was hurting her more and more. She could barely pass air to breathe through her neck, much less respond. "You were supposed to kill him."

Her hands held firmly onto his arms. She desperately attempted to put her nails in his flesh but he did not seem bothered by her efforts. Somehow, Aspasia did not feel afraid of him. He was about to strangle her and no one in the city cared enough about her to help her. She blamed her own stupidity for not understanding the risks she was taking these past few weeks. She also blamed herself for having misjudged Phillip. He was much stronger than he looked and much more vicious. "He had a guest." Again, the words came out broken and almost inaudible. Phillip loosed his grip but held Aspasia tightly if she were to try to escape.

"You should have killed him today."

"Are you watching me? Following me?"

His grip tightened again, and Aspasia gasped for air instantly. She prayed that someone could hear her and would come to her rescue. Realistically, no one would. All were asleep and Phillip made sure she would not be able to be too loud. "You are wasting time. You. Have. To. Kill. Him. Do you understand it's too late to back down now?"

He shook her body violently against the wall and almost threw her at the last shake. She hit her back of her head against the rock but at least she could breathe properly. The marks of his hands on her neck would stay there for a while.

Pointing an accusing finger at her, he spat: "I'm not a patient man. You entered a contract the moment you listened to this offer, do you understand??"

He did not give her time to answer. Instead, what he did was punch her on the area above her ear and drop her on the ground. It would leave a physical mark that will not allow her to forget their deal. Turning on his heels and walking away, Aspasia was glad to see him disappear into the shadows. He would have beaten her if he did not need her in good health to kill Tiberias. This encounter with Phillip only sent shivers down her spine. It meant that Phillip was onto her and he did not lie when he promised he was going to kill her if she failed to complete the task.

She rubbed her neck to relieve the pain. Aspasia felt that if she stayed out there longer, she would be sobbing. It was one hell of a mess that she got herself in. She did not know who Phillip was, nor who Tiberas represented, and she was already making two enemies before she had made any friends.

←→

The next day, Aspasia headed back to the wealthy part of the city. Feeling as if she was being watched, she blamed Phillip for making her feel paranoid. Questions rushed through her mind at any given moment. Who was Phillip? Was he working alone? Had he hired people to keep an eye over her? He was strong enough to tackle her, so why couldn't he kill Tiberias himself?

The scary part was that Aspasia could imagine the answer: Phillip knew that this task was difficult and preferred to have someone else do it, for if they failed, he would not be the one to get caught.

A deep hatred for Phillip burned in her chest. If she could rat him out at any given moment, she would not hesitate. If she were to go to Hell, she would drag him there with her. That's how it has always worked for her. Akakios learned the hard way to not get in the way.

She hid on top of a building and watched from above the estate, familiarizing herself with the rotation of the guards. Several people headed inside but none of them seemed to be the owner of the house. Aspasia would lose focus when the activity became too boring and when flashbacks from the previous night would pop up in her head. 

She learned two things last night: one was that Phillip was desperate to get rid of Tiberias. It seemed to be a matter of time. Maybe there was something going on, behind the scenes, and Aspasia had no idea about it. This would explain why he threatened her last night, in front of the hospital. The second thing she learned was that Phillip was strong enough to do this task himself. He was strong enough to fight Aspasia, something she did not guess when she met him for the first time. If he did not want to do this mission by himself, it meant that the cost was too high for the price.

Based on the estate, Tiberias could be anything. A rich trader, a merchant, an explorer, a doctor. Anything that paid well. 

The evening came about and finally, things grew more interesting. A man in a blue coat appeared with a white horse. He left the horse to a man who had just arrived and he headed inside the estate, passing the garden and going through what seemed to be an exterior kitchen.

Aspasia put on her hood and parkoured to the next building to get a better view. From where she was standing, she could see part of the man in a blue coat speaking to someone else, then heading up the stairs. Her blood pumped in her veins.

"Here we go," she told herself as if to give herself more courage. She had to reach the garden and take out the guard who patrolled there. She climbed on a bar and performed a leap, landing in a pile of flowers and bushes. Blending in the leafy bushes, she whistled to attract a guard in her direction. When he was close enough to reach her, she jumped out of her hiding spot and snapped his neck, enough to make him unconscious.

One by one, she knocked out the guards and infiltrated the estate. There was no time for her to admire the luxury of the place, she had to get to Tiberias before someone would notice that the guards were nowhere to be found.

There was some magic to what she was doing: all her attention was focused on her task, pushing away intruding thoughts and doubts. If Phillip was watching her at that moment, he would have been content with how clean the job was done. The guards would not be able to testify seeing a woman for she had been wise enough to attack them from behind.

As she climbed up the stairs, something in a room on the second floor caught her attention. Before entering, she looked around to see if anyone was there. There was a window large enough from which she could easily slip out if she needed an emergency escape. She carefully stepped across the floor and headed to the office. The desk in the center seemed clean but there was an open letter on it.

_Must have_ _been_ _given to him by the soldiers yesterday._

Aspasia opened it but realized it was written entirely in French, which was a language she could not speak or read, unlike Greek or Latin. She was incredibly frustrated. It appeared to be of important value.

The bottom was sighed by a person who was from Rome. Perhaps a bishop who travelled abroad. There was nothing for Aspasia to do with the letter so she put it back and proceeded to head upstairs.

Making sure she was not followed, she climbed the stairs and inspected the rooms. The man, who she presumed was Tiberias, had taken off his blue robe and stood up in the middle of the room. He held in his head a cross with a pretty ruby stone on it and seemed to pray in a low voice.

Without taking the sword out of the scabbard, Aspasia pulled out her weapon and swiftly placed it around the man's neck. She held him against her abdomen, trying to immobilize him as he writhed and twitched.

"Guards!" The man shouted but it was barely incoherent. The anger in his face was clear. He should have known that if an assassin made it inside the house, the others had already been dealt with. "Let. Go. Of. Me."

He managed to escape her grip and roll on the ground. Aspasia drew her sword and struck him from above. It cut through the wood but missed Tiberias. The man quickly picked up his sword and pointed at her.

"What is a crazy woman doing here? What do you want?"

Aspasia grinned. She said she was not going to allow herself to be provoked to talk. This part of the mission has failed but she could still kill him. Tiberias circled the table but Aspasia rolled on the floor beneath it and almost reached him when he jumped across the piece of furniture. He was now standing with his back to the exit.

_Ok, so the old man has still the vivacity of a lad,_ she thought impressed. It was not a compliment but more of a remark.

She kicked the table and sent it in Tiberias' direction. The man rolled on the side and Aspasia caught this moment where he was exposed to strike him. She sent his sword flying across the room.

Tiberias did not waste a second because he caught her arms and crossed them so she fought not to move. Then he applied a tremendous amount of force to push her back. She found herself pinned against the wall, arms on either side of her body, at the level of the waist and she was unable to move.

Luckily, he would not be able to hold her there for too long. Aspasia raised her foot and kicked him in the tibia. The second time she hit him a little higher, around the knee, and it was enough to make him weaken his grip. She passed behind him and it was now her turn to pin him to the wall, face against it.

She must have hit his head hard enough because his nose began bleeding. Lifting both her sleeves, she exposed her gauntlets. The metal of the blade shined under the moonlight. Aspasia was about to put the blade through the back of Tiberias's skull when a hand grabbed her by the forearm and someone used their elbow to hit her in the head.

Aspasia fell face-first to the ground. Someone repeatedly kicked her in the rib cage, provoking her to grunt. She spat a bit of blood, after having bitten the inside of her cheek by accident. She was completely, utterly, taken by surprise and could not do anything to defend herself. The blows kept coming and she feared it would be the end for her, that night.

"Balian. Stop." Tiberias spat. "Don't kill her."

The kicks stopped and Aspasia could finally catch her breath. She may have thought that too fast, because this time, another blow came. It was the last one. The man named Balian had kicked her in the head, hard enough to force her to lose consciousness. There was a mixture of despair and anger in her. Despair because she had failed her mission and who knows what will happen to her. Anger because she will have to kill Phillip, Tiberias AND this man named Balian for having done this to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have progressed this far in the story and you are reading this note, thank you very much. I appreciate you doing this, it means I am not writing for no one.
> 
> It may seem sloppy work and that's because 1) I was in a rush to post this and 2) I have absolutely no talent whatsoever at writing fight scenes. I want to let you guys know that I will be reviewing the chapters and editing my work after I reach a certain point in the story so don't worry.


	6. Imprisoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia is thrown in prison and she receives advice.

; Aspasia was carried to her cell by force. Two men twice her size held her by the biceps and dragged her across the hallway. "I swear, when I get out, you two will be the first to meet my blade!" she hissed as she attempted to bite and scratch them. “Let. Go. Of. Me.”

Her demands were never met. One of them even rolled his eyes as she began to swear at them in Greek. The cell door was opened, and she was forcefully shoved inside the room. Quickly rolling on her back and getting back up, Aspasia attempted to catch the two men before they locked the door for good. Unfortunately, she was not quick enough, and while the first man inserted the key in the lock, the other made sure Aspasia did not steal the keys. What she did do, in the end, was to scratch, bite and put her nails through the arms of the guard holding her through the bars. It was in vain because she did not manage to get out, but this left her with a feeling of satisfaction.

"You piece of shit, you piece of crap!" she shouted, "You need to listen to me, the king is in grave danger!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

_Slap_!

A palm across her face. Aspasia bolted and stared at the man who slapped her across the face in disbelief. Her face became bright red, and she began shouting even louder than before:

"MALAKA! YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF CRAP. I’M TRYING TO SAVE TIBERIAS AND YOUR KING AND YOU DARE SLAP ME?!”

“Women these days, so entitled…” commented the other guard. He seemed not to care that Aspasia could hear and understand him, but he was smart enough to take a step back as she slid her arm between the bars and attempted to grab him by the neck. The second man came in between the two of them. He grabbed Aspasia by the back of her neck and hit her head against the bars of the cell. The sound of her skull against the metal bar resonated in the silent prison. Feeling her head pounding and the world twirling around her, she quickly dropped at her own feet, the guards not even bothering to catch her limp body.

"Hahahahaha..." she laughed, feeling blood running down her nose. She covered her nose with her sleeve and pinched it to stop the bleeding. “I mean, it’s not like I care about your stupid king anyway. You will be the one to regret doing this, eventually.”

One of the guards sighed. "She's a feisty one," said the man who had been grabbed by the collar of his shirt. He looked at his partner, who appeared just as annoyed as he was at her attitude. If Aspasia had been a man, she would have been beaten unconscious for having aggressed royal guards. They had were told the woman was skilled in combat and could easily knock them unconscious. Their instructions were limited to put her in the cell and leave her be. There was, undeniably, a bit of fear in them, for she had knocked down several guards and assaulted Tiberias of Tripoli. But again, they argued she was just a woman, and she would be overpowered by two men who were also bigger and stronger than her.

The guard who was the most annoyed began walking away, soon followed by the second one, when they heard Aspasia say in a coarse voice: "If you walk away like this, you are making a grave mistake."

There was a snicker from both guards. They looked at each other, a bit impressed by the fact that she still held up a fight, despite the exhaustion and the hit on the head. "Funny how you're trying to play the hero now. What do you have to gain in this?"

Aspasia stood up. There was blood all around her nose, her mouth, as well as on the sleeve of her shirt. She was feeling gross. She was feeling dirty. "Nothing, absolutely nothing you nutsack," she spat at them bitterly, "now do as I say or you'll be very sorry about how events will turn out."

The two guards looked at each other.

“You think you’re in a position to be making demands? Look at you, lady. You could have lived a nice life, found a nice husband, but you are standing in prison. What is wrong with you??”

“Oh,” Aspasia pretended to sound surprised, “so you think I’m pretty?”

"This attitude of yours is not helping your case. I suggest you stay put and beg for the sympathy of your judge," said the other guard, "as for your warning about the King, there is nothing in your favour that would lead us to take you seriously. So far, you've been nothing but a thorn in our side."

"Everything is in motion right now, although not everything went according to plan,” she said in the most mysterious way possible, “but I heard your king is sick, so it’s not like he will live long enough, anyway…”

She hit a sensitive spot. Often, Aspasia did not know when to shut up, and her bad attitude got her in trouble when she was with the Templars. They never bore her attitude; these guards did not either. The first guard, the one who hit her head against the bars, stormed in her direction. Before she could step back, he had grabbed her tightly by the neck and punched her through the bars. Her world went dark this time, even before she hit the floor.

←→

Hours later, at the beginning of the night, Aspasia woke up on the ground. The first thing that she noticed was how cold the prison turned at night and how quiet it was, so quiet, she could hear her blood pulsing in her veins. She felt dirty and knew she smelled of sweat and blood. A feeling of wanting to cry took over her, but she refused to show any vulnerability or regret. When she was a Templar, her father would never let her get away with anything or give up an issue: he always needed to have the last word, something Aspasia despised.

As she looked around more carefully, she noticed someone had placed a tray with what appeared to be a sort of vegetable mix that looked a bit too brown to be palatable. Now that it had gotten room temperature, it did not smell strongly anymore. She looked at the tray with caution – she was hungry but not desperate enough to eat such garbage.

She stood up, throbbing pain on the back of her head, where she felt, and laid on the bed. On it, there were no covers nor bed sheets. Aspasia wondered if it was possible to survive like this long enough. Suddenly, even sleeping on the ground, in the Macedonian forest, did not seem as unpleasant as this prison cell. She tried to argue that only one good thing could come out of being in prison, and that was safety. If she had failed at accomplishing her objective and escaped, Phillip would have skinned her alive.

She hoped the guards were smart enough to consider the possibility that Aspasia was not operating alone. They would be searching for Phillip, who was probably in hiding and cursing at Aspasia for having blown his cover. If they released her too soon, there was this possibility that Phillip would murder her himself. He had proven to her that he was not afraid to get to her.

Some time passed until she heard the first sound of movement. A door at the end of the hallway opened, and footsteps approached her cell. Aspasia did not even want to look at the guard coming. He stood in front of her cell, and noticed she was no longer on the floor, but instead laying on the bed. There was a cough from him to catch her attention. Aspasia felt compelled to turn her head and see who had joined her. A fat guard, much shorter than her, looked at her features with a saddened look. “You are the first woman we are receiving here,” he admitted to her. She did not care about that, however. “I don’t know how to behave around you because we never had a woman attempt to kill someone.”

“I’m more dangerous than I look,” she warned him. He must have heard the two previous guards talk about her bad attitude, as well as the story of the attempt on Tiberias’ life. “Can I help you with something??”

“I will be honest with you and tell you that I pity you,” he went on, “a foreign woman used by someone to kill Tiberias. You must be incredibly stupid, not even to know who you were dealing with.” That last comment, Aspasia, did not take kindly. “In any case,” continued the guard, “I know the food you get may not be the most delicious, so I brought you something.”

He handed her an object wrapped around in a towel. Aspasia felt a warmth emanating from it and unfolded the package to realize it was a bread halve which she had been given. She was at a loss for words, wanting to be hostile toward the guard but thankful for the food. If she could make of him a friend, it meant that her journey in prison would not be as torturous as she thought it was going to be.

“I’ll bring you a cover. I know it gets cold at night.”

And with that, the guard walked away, leaving Aspasia alone again. She sat on the bed and ate the bread. Was the guard supposed to do that? Did he pity her for the fact that she was stupid? Or that she was a woman in prison? The answer was most likely both, but it did not matter, however.

The guard came back with a rough-looking cover, but it was clean and was thick enough for the night, so Aspasia did not complain.

“What will happen next?” she asked him, curious.

The guard shrugged. “As I told you, we never had women here before. Usually, they are sent back home and disciplined by their husband or father. From what I heard, you have no known family, and you tried to do murder, which means the consequences will be harsher. You have to know that Tiberias is a just man, so show yourself most pleasantly and cooperatively, and he might be more lenient of your punishment.”

“I thought I was going to have to face a court,” interjected Aspasia.

“…” there was a moment of silence coming from the guard. He seemed to lack the information or to be annoyed by Aspasia. “I would suggest you behave yourself; otherwise, the matter will be brought to court. You said some things about the king, which his royal highness will not be pleased to hear. The court will not take this matter lightly.”

In other words, shut up and don’t bother them. Aspasia rolled her eyes and turned her back to the guard. There was no reason she would get out anytime soon. Tiberias hated her, and he was in a constant state of alert that another assassin might come after his head after the night’s incident. The only thing she could do was pray that Phillip got caught and punished severely. There was nothing that would make Aspasia happier than that.


	7. Dinner at the Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia is brought to meet Princess Sibylla, and she is offered a good life in exchange of her help to catch the Assassin. She learns that Sibylla is a kind woman but very cunning.

A day has passed since Aspasia had been thrown in jail. The sun was setting, and the room grew darker, Aspasia awaited the arrival of the fat guard with the habitual slice of bread. She amused and entertained herself by wondering how he had gained that weight. Did people in Jerusalem earn enough gold to eat large amounts of food? What kind of diet did he have? Was he selfish like that to only bring her bread, and not his leftovers from dinner? Not that she was going to say those thoughts aloud, it could ruin her a beneficial friendship: no more warm bread, no more partner with whom to talk, no one with whom to talk, and no one to confirm in court that she is being cooperative and amicable.

Aspasia had not received news of what was going on in the world. Not as if this kind of information was given to prisoners. She told herself she would ask the guard the moment he would come back and visit her. She has spent the previous night moving in her bed, staring at the ceiling. It was clear to her that whatever was happening, it was no longer her problem to worry about: she had spoken the truth and warned them that Tiberias was targeted by mysterious assassins, now the ball was in his court.

She reminded herself to ask the guard about her items. They must have been collected by someone working at the Hospital. Maybe they were still there, waiting for her. These past hours, she had shown herself in the best light possible. Was this going to be sufficient to fool the guard? Would he cease perceiving her as a threat if she kept on doing this?

That evening, the guard showed up at around the same hour was the previous day. He brought her bread, and this time, a few slices of cheese and ham as well. Her eyes illuminated brightly and ate with a big appetite. As she ate quietly, he pulled out a log of wood that had been left there by another guard and sat on it. “How long will I have to stay here?” Aspasia asked him, taking this opportunity to strike a conversation. She would never admit it, but it was lonely in there, and his presence was an event she much awaited with joy. As she asked him, the guard dropped his shoulders heavily and sighed.

He spoke with a thick local accent: “I was just told you had attempted murder. You are wasting your life away doing such terrible things.”

Aspasia frowned. He did not answer her question. “I am sorry, but I don’t remember requesting an audience with a priest,” she mocked him, “and I have nothing to confess. Your superiors know about my situation. I did ask, however, how long I will be staying here.” If she insisted, maybe he would give in. He seemed more pushover than the other guards.

“If you change that attitude, maybe Tiberias will reconsider keeping you locked away.”

Aspasia unfolded her arms that were wrapped around her knees. She stretched out her legs and climbed off the bed. Slowly, she approached the bars, never breaking eye contact with the guard. She had never been seductive before – she didn’t even know how to be seductive. All the men she interacted with in her life – her father, Akakios, Phillip – have brought her nothing but pain. To say the least, she was inexperienced with romance and courtship, but could only imitate what she had seen around her. “I don’t see any other woman here,” she said in a soft voice. This created an effect on the guard. The look in his eyes changed a bit. This only motivated her to continue.

“That’s because you are the first one.”

“What happens to women like me?”

“Someone pays to get them out. It seems you don’t have anyone.”

“I… would hope you would put a good word out there of me, do you think it is possible? Maybe they might … reconsider my punishment.”

The guard’s eyebrows knotted together. Perhaps Aspasia’s tactic wasn’t working.

“If I were you, I would put on my best behaviour and hope Tiberias finds a use for me.”

His severe tone felt like a splash of cold water.

And with that, he turned around on his heels and walked down the dark hallway. A sensation of cold took over the cell once again. Perhaps it was the lack of human interaction that made Aspasia feel this way. Or perhaps it was the first time in her life that she was called out on her actions and put into place. She let go of the bars and laid back on the bed, feeling it creak underneath her weight. She asked herself why the hell she thought it was a good idea to follow the idea of Phillip - if that even was his real name. The man had offered her a shady deal for a shady amount of gold. She should have thought twice about this idea but again, never in her life has she failed a mission of the sort.

She quickly fell asleep. It was a dreamless night, nothing unusual. After that incident, several days passed. The guard would show up, leave her something to eat, but he would not stay to talk. Perhaps he understood Aspasia was not seeking a friend but rather sympathy that would get her out. Around three days went by when she heard sounds of different footsteps coming. She perked up instantly, curious to see if there was a new addition to the prison. As boring as this possibility was, it was the most entertaining thing that could have happened to her since her arrival.

Suddenly, in front of her cell stood the very man she was asked to execute.

She showed him a wicked smile, a bit happy about the turn of events. “Well, well, I didn’t expect you to come and visit me. Even better: I didn’t expect you would still be alive.”

Tiberias did not show any sign of bother or anger. His lips formed a thin line and with his eyes he pierced Aspasia’s gaze.

“It would be a waste of a good life to let you rot here,” he admitted, and it almost looked like it pained him to do so. “I have come to understand that you take odd jobs for money and if killing pays better, you ought to do it.”

“That is correct,” nodded Aspasia, “I suspect you wished to check and see if I have changed my morality. Believe me, it has not.”

“I did not come to question you about your morality,” said Tiberias, “but rather to ask you information about this man who you call Phillip.”

This was a sign that Tiberias was seeing the value in Aspasia: she knew something he did not. He had to allow her a hearing; she could provide important information about a murder attempt on a man of state. It only showed Aspasia she held more power than she thought she did. If Tiberias depended on her, she could persuade him to let her out.

“I don’t see the purpose of giving you such information,” taunted Aspasia. “You are alive now and standing in front of the mercenary who attempted to take your life. Clearly, you had defeated this man named Phillip and therefore you are no longer threatened.”

“Phillip never whispered a word about his objective.”

Aspasia squinted her eyes a bit in suspicion. That Phillip reminded her awfully of Akakios, in more ways than one. “I want to know it clearly: have you caught him, or not?”

“We did catch him. He put up a fight. We caught him and interrogated him, but he committed suicide. He must have had a pill filled with poison hidden in his mouth. Which is why I resorted to speaking directly to you, as much as I hate to admit it.”

Akakios and Phillip were the same: both had ended up dead in a rather gruesome way.

“You seem to know things which you are not supposed to know. Did Phillip share with you more than he should have?” added Tiberias.

Aspasia was going to lose it. He never had intentions of letting her go, Tiberias only lost his sole suspect and relied on her to uncover the mystery. “Well, what do you want from me now?? The man is dead. I was only paid to kill. My job is not to ask questions but to execute – whether it is an errand to run or a murder to commit. I don’t see how I can be of value any further.” She showed her fists as she hissed at him, then quickly grabbed onto the bars of the cell. The fat guard seemed panicked as Aspasia did the total opposite of what she was told to do – behave and act nice. Tiberias did not flinch but instead kept his gaze on her. Despite that, Tiberias did not seem to enjoy her sudden burst of anger. Aspasia tried to steady her voice but she was losing patience. It felt as if he had the upper hand – and realistically speaking, he did. He was the one outside the cell, no?

“I expect to speak with you tonight. The princess herself will make an appearance, so I will see you attend the dinner. That is unless you wish to spend the rest of your days in this cell.” Those were his last words and with that, he left Aspasia on her own. They sounded more like a threat than a promise. The fat guard walked Tiberias out again and Aspasia was left to her solitude.

A few hours later, a new guard came and informed her that the dinner was in fact going to take place. He had brought with her a servant who would come fetch her and dress her properly. Aspasia left her cell for the first time in days, not sure if she was going to enjoy this opportunity. This was an interrogation disguised as a dinner party. Whoever the princess was, Aspasia could not care less. Royalty meant nothing to her.

The maid was an Arab woman who could understand spoken Latin but could not speak it herself. Aspasia took pity of her and did not dare attack her or run away. Together, they walked through several hallways and penetrated the castle, a separate building from the prison. She counted in her head the number of guards she saw, and wondered what was the best escape route if she needed to run away.

The maid noticed that Aspasia seemed a bit tired and lost, so she took her by the hand gently and led her through the royal palace. There, the maid began speaking to her, but seeing that Aspasia did not know Arabic, she showed her with a hand gesture an isolated room at the end of the hallway.

The two women entered the room, where another maid was preparing a set of robes on a chair and flattening the creases of the fabric. Aspasia deduced the clothes were meant for her, and the maids would be giving her a bath and getting her ready. In an adjacent room, connected by a door, there was a sort of bath with a tub in the center of the room. The maids poured from two vases hot water and gestured Aspasia to climb inside.

She was initially embarrassed to be seen naked. The woman prompted her to get undressed quickly and began pouring oils and perfumes in the water. As they rubbed her back from the dirt, they inspected the scars across her body and arms and spoke among themselves – Aspasia assumed they were intrigued by them. She was conscious herself they were not very ladylike. With almost child-like curiosity, Aspasia inspected the bottles with the oils. It was something she never experienced in Macedonia. She never had access to such luxury and everything she had to do – bathing, cooking, bandaging – she would do it herself. Now she smelled so good and felt fresh while earlier she was dressed in the clothes she had worn in prison.

When they were done, one of the maids instructed Aspasia to stand up, and they quickly wrapped her in a towel while the other patted her hair dry. She was then taken to the first room, where a new set of clothes was laid out on the bed. Intrigued by the design, Aspasia spent a long time with the dress in her hands, inspecting it. The fashion was very oriental, something Aspasia never wore. She put on a midnight blue dress that had long sleeves and colourful jewelry decorating the neckline, the hem and the edge of the sleeves. One maid brought her some slippers while the other began doing her hair.

Her hair was tied loosely at the back, enough to keep it from getting in her eyes. She ran her hands on the silky fabric and wondered how expensive her garments were. Before she could ask any question, an Arab man holding a torch appeared in the doorframe and indicated Aspasia to follow him. The young woman threw one last glance at the maids and headed out.

As they walked through the cold corridors, Aspasia attempted to formulate a mental map of the place. However, instead of doing that, she found herself admiring the details of the architecture and fantasizing about life in an oriental palace. “Have they found my stuff at the hospital?” she asked the man in Latin. She wondered if she was going to have to learn Arabic, on top of Latin. The man did not answer her. Perhaps he did not understand her, or perhaps he did not care enough to help out a prisoner. Aspasia looked at him up and down. “Is the black part of the uniform or a personal taste?” Again, no answer.

After several minutes of walking through the castle, passing by a beautiful interior garden, they arrived at a more secluded area of the castle. It seemed to be the chambers of the royal family. Aspasia did not know what to expect to find there. “Are we here?” she asked the man as he halted in front of two doors and faced her. She did not wait for an answer and opened them. Inside, she found Tiberias standing next to a woman with dark hair and dark robes.

“Rude of you to just barge in,” commented Tiberias, “I should ask you to go out and wait to be called in.”

Aspasia felt the Arab man behind her shift his weight from one foot to the other, obviously being embarrassed for her.

“Then perhaps I should return to my cell and call it a day,” Aspasia replied.

The beautiful woman giggled as her gaze travelled from Aspasia to Tiberias. She sat on a couch and played with the creases of her dress. Tiberias appeared to want to say something to Aspasia, but instead, he refrained from saying anything.

“I want to know what happened to my things, at the hospital,” Aspasia demanded.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to demand anything,” replied Tiberias. “And I would also tell you it is rude to ignore others – perhaps you did not know who this woman is? I think I told you about her, when I met you at your cell.”

“Hum… You bark and you bark but you aren’t in a good position to be doing that either,” Aspasia ignored the second half of his sentence, “you don’t have your little dark-haired friend to protect you now.”

“ONE more word, Aspasia, and I promise you I’ll throw you back into that cell myself.”

The woman sensed the tension building up and began to pull on Tiberias’s sleeve, incited him to calm down. “Tiberias, don’t forget why we are here.”

“Yes, Tiberias, don’t forget why we are here,” Aspasia repeated mockingly.

He was about to take a step further when the woman quickly stood up, grabbed him by the forearms and forcefully made him sit next to her. She kept her body between him and Aspasia, in case he wanted to attack her. The woman sighed and turned her head to face Aspasia: “Please, Aspasia, we don’t want to make it worse than it is. I invite you to take a seat.”

“Is that a request or an obligation?”

“A request” replied the woman.

At the same time, Tiberias said: “When it’s the princess who speaks to you, you ought to behave.”

The woman bit her lower lip and turned to face the man. It was as if she did not want that information revealed. “Yes, I am the princess, indeed,” she finally said.

“Princess of what?”

It was a stupid, innocent question, but it came out taunting. Aspasia realized that a bit too late. All pairs of eyes were set on her and she stared back at them, dumbfounded. She was foreign to their land and they knew Aspasia did not try to hide her contempt for them, why was this question surprising? She had said things worse, earlier. Luckily, the princess did not seem to mind.

“Of this Kingdom, and of Ascalon, Tripoli and Acre. But you may call me Sibylla, as do most people who know me personally. I assume you haven’t had dinner yet, so we have prepared you some food. I wanted to take this opportunity to get to know you a bit better.” She looked at Tiberias, perhaps worried by the way he was going to behave. Aspasia could tell that the man was not afraid to hide his emotions in front of Sibylla, indicating there was a long history between them and a lot of trusts. “You provided us with valuable information that allowed us to take precautions. It is thanks to you that no one in my family was harmed.”

They wanted to talk about the contract with Phillip. It made her feel a bit uneasy. Aspasia was aware that she had been told only a few details and knew almost nothing about Phillipe, his goal and his collaborators. Aspasia, as a mercenary, was a disposable pawn. Phillip told her that explicitly. She began to realize that the only truly safe place for her now was the prison.

“Don’t be shy,” coaxed Sibylla, “I want to hear your side of the story.”

Aspasia sat down at the table. “I’ve got nothing to tell you,” she said.

Tiberias cracked his knuckles and adjusted his position on the chair. Sibylla threw him a side glance but diverted her focus back on Aspasia. Both seemed equally surprised by her answer. Aspasia told her she was going to maintain her position until the end.

“Is this a sort of trial?” She asked. “Shouldn’t there be a court?”

“I think it is best to not bring this matter to the public. It would cause too much of a commotion.”

Aspasia hated Sibylla. She was far too nice to her for no reason.

“Who do you hate more? Tiberias or Phillip?” asked Sibylla.

What kind of question was that? Aspasia did not take too long to come up with an answer. “Phillip. He threatened to kill me.”

“Phillip is dead,” Sibylla continued.

“Yes, that I was told.”

“And he refused to talk. He ate poison and died, rather than divulge information. If you hate him more than you hate Tiberias, you would judge it is best to tell us everything you know so you can ruin Phillip’s plan, especially when he is no longer among us to meddle in this business.”

There was a moment of silence where Aspasia’s cheeks turned red. Sibylla has shown herself to be cunning. She had been smart enough to not fuel Aspasia’s belligerent nature and provoke a fight. The only way to convince her was to use her own logic, and by doing that, Aspasia would at the end comply with their plan. She felt as if Sibylla had read her through in the few minutes they had met.

It was true that Aspasia wished only bad things to happen to Phillip, and now he was dead. If she could irk the ghost of the man, even better. That meant, however, that she would be doing a service to Tiberias. It was as if Sibylla read her mind – ironic that her name had to do with Greek myths and prophecy telling – she added “if you accept this offer, you will be working for me. _I_ need your help to find the one who is trying to kill Tiberias. They may be coming about _my family_.”

It was a wise choice of words: she completely omitted Tiberias from the initiative, because she knew Aspasia was going to refuse. She then brought up her family, to get her sympathy. “I can tell what you are doing,” Aspasia told Sibylla, “and what do I get in return, after saving you and Tiberias?”

Sibylla smiled kindly at her, something that annoyed Aspasia even more. “I hope you can understand that I cannot forgo the punishment. I think your life is not worth wasting and you have important things to share with the world. I was told by others that you are looking for a way to make money and for this, I want to offer you a job, here, at the palace, because you have skills I would like to learn from you. If you make yourself useful in this sense, I will speak directly to my brother about erasing this punishment of yours.”

“What does this job guarantee me?”

“You will earn a salary and you will have a chamber of yours, with maids to assist you in your daily tasks. I will have you teach me Greek and the art of fighting – I want to be able to defend myself, and I was told you were an excellent fighter.”

Aspasia frowned. “This is too good to be true.”

“I assume we have a deal?”

Aspasia sighed. She scratched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. Her thoughts were all over the place and she wondered if it was a good thing to ask the princess for time to thing about the offer. The princess did not have enough time on her hands – she needed quickly the information to go catch other possible assassins. If Aspasia wasted time, the offer would no longer stand and she would rot away in prison, as planned.

“We have a deal.”

And with that, Aspasia told them everything she knew. The maids brought dinner and drinks, and they spoke for hours, to no end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think of the character of Aspasia? I am happy with the way she turned out, I think she really is written the way I imagined it. I'm saying this because it was easy to imagine her but it is much harder to write down the way I envisioned her.
> 
> I deviate a bit from the original Sibylla from Kingdom of Heaven because I am trying to add more layers to this character. She is very complimentary to Aspasia in some ways because she is better at certain things than Aspasia and vice versa. I find that Kingdom of Heaven only had one female character among many male characters and she rarely held her grounds, so here, with Aspasia, both women need to impose themselves in an environment dominated by men.


	8. A Place to Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aspasia tells Tiberias and Sybilla everything she knows. She is offered a job and a room of her own, as long as she promises to work and help on the case.

Servants arrived with casks in their hands and poured alcohol in each of their glasses. Aspasia sat down and placed on her plate several slices of roasted meat and sausages. The eyes of Sybilla and Tiberias were set on her, the former a bit amused by her way of eating and the latter annoyed by her lack of manners. To them, it looked like Aspasia had not had a meal in weeks. The Count would have said something but Sybilla gave him a small smile; both knew that Aspasia was not going to listen to them, so there was no point in provoking her. She would be taught table manners eventually, in the near future.

“I don’t suppose you have more clues about Philip’s goal and his whereabouts,” spoke Sybilla, “I am sure he must have had a headquarters somewhere, where he could keep everything.”

“If we manage to find the place where he used to hide, we could easily learn more about his objective,” continued Tiberias for her.

Aspasia put a hand on her chest, realizing that she should have eaten and swallowed more slowly. “He never said anything about hiding, never spoke about his objectives or identity, as a matter of fact. He had this habit of disappearing like a ghost, but I knew he was always watching me throughout the day. This led me to believe it was a matter of urgency.”

Sybilla frowned as she lifted her goblet with wine to her lips. “A matter of urgency?”

“I would guess it had something to do with a letter Tiberias received. While I was strolling through the streets of the Christian quarter, there were two knights who spoke of delivering a letter. Tiberias must know what I am referring to.”

Tiberias nodded his head.

“The letter was on your desk,” added Aspasia, “but it was written in French, so I could not understand.”

Sybilla and Tiberias looked at each other, then the former asked Aspasia: “yes, officials often communicate in French, no wonder you could not understand the letter. If I may say, you speak Latin well for a newcomer. Do you not know how to read?”

Aspasia shook her head and brought her fork to her mouth. “Only Greek and Macedonian, and Latin also, but as you can see, I speak it poorly.”

“Perhaps we could offer you a professor, to teach you. It is a useful language to know in this Kingdom. That is... if you wish to stay here for the long-term.”

Aspasia thought about it. She did not have an answer ready for Sybilla.

“In any case,” added Sybilla, “the letter you just found was sent by the Patriarch of Jerusalem, Heraclitus. There has been a constant threat at our borders with the Kingdom of Syria and of Egypt, so Rome is looking to send more knights and more pilgrims here to secure our territory.”

Tiberias sent the princess a strange look. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for her to know all of this?”

“Positive,” answered Sybilla, “it was clear that Phillip wanted to act during this opportunity, if he pressured Aspasia to finish her job quickly. He must have known something about the treaties we have put in place and other letters that are confidential matter.”

“Phillip is a European,” argued Aspasia, “I don’t understand why he would be against that.”

“We don’t know much about Phillip,” explained Sybilla, “for all we know, his allegiance could lie elsewhere.”

“He seemed trained in fighting,” added Aspasia, “he did threaten to kill me if I did not kill Tiberias quickly. I would say he may have been even more capable than I was to do the job. And if he also resisted the interrogation and had poison ready, it could mean that he was trained since a young age for this type of mission. He was no ordinary citizen.” Because even knights were not this performant. Aspasia could not imagine what type of work Phillip did, but it brought her ideas in mind. “Do you think he wanted to target someone else? Other than Tiberias? Because if he wanted to destabilize the balance of power, I would have also gone for someone who is in high position and commands. Such as Tiberias.”

“We cannot ignore the possibility that they were after my brother,” Sybilla spoke this time to Tiberias. “What she says is true: if they were to eliminate you, Baldwin would be more vulnerable, and so will be the kingdom.”

“His royal highness is more vulnerable than I, in many ways,” agreed Tiberias, “he is constantly surrounded by guards and rarely leaves the palace, while I am often travelling between the palace, my estate and the Office to handle public affairs.”

“This puts all my family at risk. If they are determined to weaken the kingdom, they will not hesitate to go for me either. This makes us vulnerable.”

Tiberias bit his lower lip and looked at the floor pensively. Aspasia felt out of the frame and continued eating and drinking. She would gladly step out and leave this story behind her if that meant she could walk away free.

Sybilla sighed and crossed her arms. “Our priority is Baldwin,” she finally broke the silence, “I will ask Balian to handle this. Ibelin will have to wait. I don't want to put any more pressure on him than I have to. Balian should be trustworthy and capable enough to handle this.”

“I will contact Almaric and inform him of the situation. He will take over Balian’s land for the meanwhile,” informed Tiberias. “Well, I suppose we can call it a day. It is already very late and we should go to sleep.”

Sibylla looked up at Tiberias as he stood up and tied his cape. “Will you go to sleep, Tiberias? I know you well and I know you will stay awake longer to think about this.”

“I will have to make sure Aspasia here is brought to her chamber,” he spoke to Sybilla but looked at Aspasia in the eyes as if he was announcing her good news. “We will have to deal with this tomorrow.”

As if she did not have a choice, Tiberias pulled Aspasia’s chair away from the table, an indication that she would have to stand up and leave her plate unfinished. She was annoyed by his behaviour but did not have the strength to put up a fight. Sybilla followed the two of them as they left. They walked the dark hallways until they reach a beautiful garden underneath the balcony where they just ate. Aspasia looked at the variety of plants and wondered how comfortable it was, to stay in their shade, during the day.

Two gates made of wood and decorated with forged iron were guarded by two men in armour. They opened them and allowed a few men on their horses to step inside the court. Aspasia recognized the first man as the one who knocked her out cold during the murder attempt. They sent each other cold stares, but Balian focused his attention on the Princess. 

“I have to ask you something,” she said, a playful smile lingering on her lips. His facial expression softened instantly as she spoke to him. Aspasia suspected there was something going on between the two of them. “It is about my brother.”

Tiberias put a hand on Aspasia’s shoulder and pushed her aside and led her away from the couple. She was curious about the exact nature of their relationship but she was too embarrassed to stick around. She sent Tiberias a questioning look and asked him: “What is going to happen next?”

“What do you mean? Tomorrow or in general?”

“Both,” she answered.

Tiberias took a pause to think. “Now, our objective is to figure out what Phillip was working on, with who, and what was his purpose. Tomorrow I will be busy working on this case, and if Sybilla wishes it, I will have to find a use for you, other than the classes you are to give her. Your schedule will be given to you tomorrow morning."

“Am I going to be left aside for this? I want to know about Phillip and his plan, too.”

“I suggest you don’t make your situation worse, Aspasia,” Tiberias said in a stern tone. The man had a gift for sounding threatening, but Aspasia never knew when to stop something.

“Oh really? Because I just saw that you are far away from the truth and you seem to be in desperate need for some assistance.”

He shoved her in the back and forced her to walk ahead of him. Aspasia hated Tiberias and he hated her back. If she could make him a miserable man, she would do that. It was not hard to push Akakios over the edge, but it was harder to make Tiberias lose his temper. That did not mean it was impossible, and Aspasia always liked a little challenge.

They climbed a few floors and finally arrived in front of a finely ornamented door, something Aspasia would only imagine existed in tales. Tiberias pushed the door open and indicated Aspasia to head inside.

She stepped inside and admired the place with her mouth wide open.

“Close your mouth or you may swallow a flying insect by accident,” snapped Tiberias, “this is now your room, make yourself comfortable. You are not a prisoner here but I suggest you refrain from roaming through the castle at night. This would make everyone really angry, especially given that you are reputed for being violent and insufferable.”

Aspasia grinned at him and shooed him away with her hand. Rumours spread like wildfire, it seemed. As he closed the door and walked away, Aspasia began to look around. The room was everything she dreamt of. A big, fluffy bed with beautiful covers, a spacious balcony, tables made of carved wood with incredible details on the legs. Aspasia looked more carefully at the bed and noticed a familiar dirty brown bag. She gasped and rushed to open it. Her heart was beating fast of happiness as she found inside her items intact. She took out the clothes and attempted to store them away when she noticed her wardrobe was fully prepared for her. Among her clothes, she had many dresses and accessories that were of oriental inspiration.

She noticed none of them were appropriate for fighting or moving. Not only that, but they were visibly expensive, thus would make her stand out in a crowd. Too bad, she would just have to use her salary to purchase more appropriate clothes.

Aspasia emptied the content of her bag, and found the little red ruby and placed it in the smallest pocket of the bag, then placed the bag inside a cabinet. She laid on the bed, feeling her body relax and felt asleep in the same clothes she was wearing.

←→

The following morning, Aspasia was awakened by a knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer, the maid who had come to fetch her entered the room and began searching through her clothes for a dress.

“I’m sorry, but – “

Aspasia stopped mid-sentence, realizing that this maid did not speak Latin either. The Arab woman picked up a deep blue dress with golden designs and set it on a chair nearby. She then urged Aspasia to get out of bed and to get ready. Aspasia did as she was told and did not protest when the maid helped her wash.

When she was dressed fully and was patting her hair dry, the made spoke to her in Arabic about something Aspasia did not understand. Seeing that they were unable to communicate with each other with words, the maid started using hand gestures to mimic the act of eating.

“Oh, yes, food… Is it possible to eat here?” Aspasia asked, then she emphasized it by mimicking eating and pointing to the floor to indicate the chamber. The woman said something else Aspasia only stared at her with big eyes, and finally, the maid left the room.

Minutes later, she came back with a tray filled with food and a few drinks. Aspasia sat down at the table and ate in silence. The maid seemed a bit perplexed by her behaviour but let her be. It was clear to Aspasia that the woman was not up to date with the situation and knew nothing about her relationship with others. Things were tense: she had recently arrived in Jerusalem and had already made three enemies and almost no friends.

“It is morning, and you are still in your chamber?” a familiar voice called for her. Tiberias had just entered the room and looked at the maid and Aspasia, before focusing his attention entirely on Aspasia.

“What are you doing here?” the latter asked. She noted that Tiberias did not look particularly tired, despite having worked on the case of Phillip late into the night, and perhaps woke up earlier than most. She imagined that a man in his position was used to sleeping as little as possible.

“I have come to bring you your schedule. Your first week will be hectic, but you will adjust to the daily activities and there will be some modifications made, according to how Sybilla is feeling.”

“She said she wanted to learn Greek,” Aspasia said.

“Yes. And fighting. She feels more comfortable learning from a woman.”

“Noble women don’t learn to use a weapon?”

Tiberias looked at Aspasia with exasperation, making her feel even more stupid.

“I think you should answer me honestly, Tiberias,” continued Aspasia in a slow but severe tone, “you know very well that I am new to all of this.”

“Right, right, of course,” he dismissed her as if he wanted to avoid a confrontation at all costs. “I am aware you are not equipped with the proper clothes for doing physical activity, but you will be provided with some. You will also have at your disposition weapons and shields if ever you find the need.”

“I have to tell you that my Greek… is not the most refined one,” admitted Aspasia, “I have an accent when I speak and I don’t think it is a wise decision for the princess to learn Greek from me.”

“And I am sure you will manage. The princess is aware of that. Now, get ready to meet her in the garden, she will not wait for you.” And with those words, he left.

Aspasia quickly finished her meal and prepared to head to the garden. She still could not believe how events turned out to happen. She used to be a Templar in Macedonia, unhappy with her life and with no purpose, and now her life was spiralling out of control, taking a tangent and making her question what plan God had for her.

When she arrived in the garden, Aspasia decided to walk around while waiting for Sybilla to get there. The world of the palace seemed to be hermetic, in a sense. The nobles had isolated themselves from the people and Tiberias was one of the few people to have extensive contact with commoners. Aspasia was a commoner, this hit her suddenly. She was not part of this world and would never be fully accepted.

“Good morning, Aspasia!” chirped a lovely voice, “I apologize for having made you wait, I am ready.”

Aspasia turned around and saw Sybilla approach her. The princess stopped on her tracks and smiled kindly at her.

“Good morning,” Aspasia said, admiring her beautiful clothes. There was something about Sybilla that drew people to her. Perhaps it was her beauty or her wits.

“How did you sleep last night? The new room must be more comfortable than the cell.”

“Yes…” was the only thing Aspasia could come up with. “Shall we get started with the Greek lessons?”

“Yes! I am very excited about this! What are we starting with?”

Aspasia bit her lower lip. She started feeling an invisible weight on her shoulders. This was a big responsibility and she did not feel up for the task. She, herself, had learned Greek from speaking and hearing others and learned how to write much later.

“I have to warn you, Sybilla, that Greek is the second language I learned to speak and write. Perhaps Tiberias told you about my worry to teach you Greek with the accent from where I am from.”

“I am sure you will do an excellent job, Aspasia, if that is what you are worried about. I need to learn Greek to read old texts. This is how knowledge has been preserved for a long time. I learned other languages from listening to my nannies when I was a child and that was never an obstacle for me.”

“In that case, what should we begin with? Learning how to introduce yourself? Or maybe we can start with greetings?”

“I have a better idea!” Sybilla’s face instantly illuminated. She looked around carefully to make sure no one was listening to their conversation, and in a low voice she said: “I know it may sound silly but I always wanted to learn swear words.” And as if she read Aspasia’s mind, she quickly added: “You see, I’m a princess and most of the time, everyone is very careful about how they speak to me, or how they behave around me, and so I learned very late, and only from hearing people outside the palace. Will you do this for me?”

Aspasia burst into laughter. There was something particularly amusing about the problems Sybilla faced, something Aspasia never thought could be considered a problem.

Sybilla frowned and gave Aspasia a light tap on her biceps. The latter pretended to be hurt as Sybilla rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Don’t make me regret asking you this…”

“Sybilla, there is a chance Tiberias will come to see me after this lesson and ask to know what I thought you. What will I answer him then?”

“Just say that we learned the days of the week and the months of the year.”

“I do not believe he will take this excuse,” giggled Aspasia, “but alright, we will work double today: insults and THEN days of the week and months of the year.”

Sybilla quickly pulled Aspasia into a hug, almost crushing her bones in the tight embrace. This was surprising but not unpleasant. Aspasia never had any friends and so could not judge if Sybilla was sincere in her actions.


	9. Leads and trails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia finishes her first Greek lesson with Sybilla, and she meets Princess Isabella, who is still a young child. After the lesson, she takes a horse and heads for the city, where she is confronted by Balian of Ibelin for having left the castle.

Two hours later, Sybilla finally stood up and stretched her limbs, indicating that her study session was approaching to an end. Aspasia jotted on a piece of parchment one last note and handed it to Sybilla, to review for their next session. “I will have to interrogate you on this, to see if you remember.”

Sybilla looked at the paper and smiled. “Efharisto poli,” she thanked Aspasia in Greek, provoking her to smile in approval. “Well, I thank you for this lesson, and I hope to see you for our fighting class, which I am waiting with impatience.”

“Yes, about that – “

The two women were interrupted by the sounds of a little girl. The two of them turned their heads to see a beautiful young girl run in their direction, her blond locks in all directions. Sybilla opened her arms wide and welcomed the girl in an embrace. Both began saying things to each other in French, and Aspasia could only look at them but not say anything.

“Yes, Aspasia, this is my little sister, Isabella.”

Isabella grabbed onto Aspasia’s robe and smiled at the woman, showing her missing front tooth in the process. Aspasia tried to say something but could not get the words out. She had never dealt with a child before and so did not know how to behave, even less when it came to a noble one.

“What are you doing together? I want to be with you too!” said Isabella.

“She is teaching me Greek,” answered Sybilla, “Isabella, where is your mother? You are here alone?”

Isabella answered to her older sister in French, showing with her hand the gate from which she came from. Sybilla nodded her head and told her to head back, and before the young girl left, she waved her hand goodbye at Aspasia and disappeared as quickly as she came.

“I hope I was not offensive to her,” said Aspasia, “I have to tell you that I don’t know how to act around children, it may sound surprising.”

“You were just fine! She likes you a lot, from what I could tell,” reassured her Sybilla, “maybe you could teach her as well, in the future? She still has a lot to learn before she focuses on Greek.”

Aspasia shrugged her shoulders and looked at the direction which Isabella came and left.

“About that training you ask for me,” continued Sybilla, “I am curious to why you want to learn to find and defend yourself. You are constantly surrounded by guards.”

Sybilla smiled and tilted her head a bit. “I wish I could be as agile as you. I want to be able to defend myself if something bad were to happen. Physical training, unless it is dancing, is reserved for boys and so I could only watch my brother train but I could never participate. Tiberias said you are talented and you could knock out many guards, and you also did it swiftly. I would like to learn from another woman, it would be less embarrassing, and we also understand each other in a way that men don’t.”

Aspasia nodded her head, understanding a little bit more. “We can start with ways to defend yourself if you are attacked. Other tricks would require more practice. I also wanted to know if you wished to learn how to use weapons. I was told that we had equipment at our disposition.”

“I want to follow your recommendation, you are the master here,” Sybilla laughed. She stood up again, cleaned her robe from the dust. Aspasia could guess that she was pressed to leave. She would have to formulate a plan for the training. It was true that women did not typically receive education regarding battle and strategy, so Aspasia would have to adapt to Sybilla’s capabilities and limits.

“Thank you for the lesson today, it was enjoyable. I will let you know when we proceed, and I will be ready for this examination!” Sybilla showed Aspasia the folded parchment, and with that she left quickly. Aspasia was left to her own devices, and she looked around, a bit lost. She had free time now but nothing to do, except retreat to her room or explore the palace.

There was no clear indication to what Aspasia had access to and what was off limits, but she knew that some people were still very cold to her and maybe she could not consider the palace her home yet. She decided to go search for Tiberias and ask him some questions directly.

Guards indicated her which path to take to get to his office, and Aspasia headed to the Marshall’s office. She found Tiberias discussing something in French with a man she did not know. She excused herself quickly and indicated that she would be waiting outside when Tiberias abruptly stopped the conversation with the man with only a hand gesture. “We will talk about this later. I have other matters to attend.”

The man frowned, but walked away, not without pushing past Aspasia. Angry that he bumped her shoulder purposefully, she pushed him back with the same intensity. “You want a fight?” The man stopped on his tracks and spoke to her in her face.

Tiberias stood up from his desk and interposed himself between the two of them. “Knock it off, you two.” It was enough to make the man walk away, and Aspasia relax for a bit. Tiberias sighed and massaged his forehead. “Why must you always cause trouble?”

“You saw what happened; he bumped into me.”

“And you only provoked him even more. If you poke the bear… In any case, what do I owe you this visit for?”

His tone was a bit sour but Aspasia ignored him. She walked around his office, touching his books and his shelves. She could sense that he did not like that but did not stop.

“I had just finished the first Greek lesson with Sybilla and now I have free time on my hands. I wanted to ask if I was permitted to leave the castle grounds and come back in the evening.”

Tiberias chuckled. “You are asking for permission to do something? This is new. What happened to the old Aspasia, belligerent and easily angered?”

This made her frown: she would have wanted to spit back a reply at him but if she had done so, he would restrict her freedom.

“What business you have outside?” he pushed.

“Nothing in particular.”

“If it is about Phillip, leave this matter to me. I told you already that I will call for you when I have more information.”

“Yes,” Aspasia agreed, “you did say that. What I want to know is if I am free to roam to city or if I am to stay withing the perimeter of the castle.”

Tiberias sighed. “You have permission to leave, but I would prefer if you did not go alone.”

“If you fear I may get in trouble, remember that I can defend myself,” reminded him Aspasia.

“No. What I fear is that you will be causing trouble to us… But to answer your question: yes, you are free to go. I expect you to be back by dusk.”

“And I wanted to ask if I have access to equipment and items from the castle.”

Tiberias raised an eyebrow. “For your lessons with Sybilla or your own personal use? You have the permission to use anything you wish but I hope I don’t need to specify that you are to bring them back once you are done…”

“Perfect. This is all I needed to hear.”

Aspasia quickly stood up and walked away. “Wait! What am I suppose to understand from this?” Tiberias quickly ran after her.

Aspasia stopped from her tracks and turned around to face him. “Nothing. I just wanted to see if it was alright that I borrow a horse. I wished to run some errands, that’s all.”

Tiberias would have added something but refrain to. He dismissed her with a hand gesture and walked back to his office. Aspasia headed for the stables and looked around for the most beautiful horse there was. She finally settled for a beautiful grey horse with white spots, which she found was the calmest and most gentle. It was a contrast to the beautiful Pegasus that was black, but both had a similar character and calm demeanour.

She quickly climbed on the horse when a servant and led it to the gates that were opened. Suddenly, a voice seemed to call for her: “hey! Don’t take that horse! You cannot take Zephyr, pick another one!”

Aspasia turned around to see a short man running after her. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring it back safe!” she reassured him and took off. She managed to catch the panicked look in the man’s eyes but paid no attention to it, and rode into the city streets, avoiding crowds of people.

People seemed to pay more attention to her, perhaps it was due to her beautiful blue dress or the grey spotted horse. Aspasia was not going to deny that she liked it: she felt regal and important. People paid more respect to her and no longer blocked her way.

The city was as lively as usual, with markets filled with people and fresh products, many of which Aspasia was not familiar with. She wondered where was the best place to start her personal search for Phillip. She remembered suddenly that, although she was given her bag, she was missing her weapons, especially her hidden blade. She would have to stop by at the Hospital and speak to the nun who was taking care of her.

When she arrived to the Hospital, she tied the horse to a pole and headed inside. There, she walked to the room where her bed was, and found the nun she was looking for taking care of a sick patient whom Aspasia did not recognize. “Oh dear, you’re back!” the nun chirped when she saw Aspasia standing behind her. “One moment, dear, and I’m all yours.”

She quickly bandaged the patient and then turned to Aspasia. “You remember me,” Aspasia noted, with a smile.

“Of course. When the royal guards came, they asked for your stuff. I had no idea if they knew you or not, but you were in trouble. I would have also been in trouble, if they saw I kept your daggers and your sword. You also had weird gloves. Something told me I should hide them and only hand them your clothes.”

Aspasia laughed of joy and whipped away an imaginary tear. “Thank you so much, you are a blessing.”

Aspasia was taken to a more secluded room, a sort of storage for bandages and medicine, and she picked up her items from the floor. She put her gauntlets and covered them with the sleeves of her dress. She picked the rest of her things, placed them in a bag, attached her sword to the belt of her dress, and headed out.

“What will you do next?” asked the nun.

Aspasia shrugged. “I have to continue living. As normally as possible.”

“Aspasia, dear, are you in danger perhaps?”

She laughed a bit at what the nun was suggesting. She couldn’t possibly have figured out what happened. “I have people by my side, you do not have to worry about me.”

“Please take care of yourself. God is good and He will guide you through your journey.”

“Thank you, sister. Here, I would like to make a donation.” Aspasia placed in the palms of her hand several coins, to which the nun thanked her countless of times. She walked Aspasia out and helped her climb on her horse. “I hope we will run into each other again,” said Aspasia.

“Aspasia?” a voice called her. The woman froze on the spot when she recognized the man who called her.

“Do you know this young man?” asked the nun.

“Yes, unfortunately…”

Aspasia was about to ride off but she could not head anywhere for there were too many people crowding the streets. Balian, who had just caught her, was heading in her direction. He quickly grabbed the reigns and prevented Aspasia from getting out. “I don’t think you were supposed to leave the palace grounds.”

“And I don’t think you are my sitter, either.”

Anger became almost like a second nature to Aspasia. Everyone kept getting in her way, manipulating her, coaxing her into doing what she did not want to do. Balian had the same righteous attitude as Tiberias but he had done nothing to try to appease the situation, only making matters worse. Aspasia was also angry at him for having knocked her out when she tried to kill Tiberias, and he had not apologized for it.

“I believe it is not in your interest to wander about, after what happened to you.”

“What I do is none of your business. I have the permission to leave the castle whenever I please.”

“There is going to be a problem, however. This is not your horse. Correct me if I am wrong, but is this not the King's favourite horse?”

“Perhaps,” responded Aspasia, unsure of the answer herself “what will you do? Take it away and leave a lady to walk on her feet?”

Balian scoffed. “You, my dear, are far from a lady. I suggest you tell me where you intend on heading now and when you will get back, otherwise I will have to follow you, and believe me when I say I have better things to do than to escort a _lady_ through the city.”

“Mmh… I will doubt you would say this if I were Sybilla…” And there she had hit a nerve. Balian was perhaps sensitive when it came to Sybilla.

He pulled her by the arm, getting her off the horse and pushed her aside. The nun jumped but held onto the reigns of the horse, watching as Balian pulled Aspasia aside. He pushed her against the wall and restrained her from running, but both knew that if she wished to escape, she would have simply attacked him and then done so.

“You need to learn to shut it once in awhile. This smart mouth will get you in trouble one day. I am sorry that I have to be the one to tell you this, but you are not on friendly terms with anyone here, so you better stay out of trouble, for no one will come to help you.”

Aspasia giggled. “Heh heh heh, so you _do_ have some sort of history with her. Was I not supposed to find out?”

Balian gave her another shove, her back hit the wall behind, but she balanced herself quickly.

“You should stay out of matters that don’t concern you,” he said.

Aspasia ignored what he said and continued: “it is so obvious, and you still expect this to be a secret. Why are you two hiding? Does she already have someone?” There was no answer from Balian, only a cold stare, “You know what? You don’t have to answer me, I already got what I wanted. It does not matter what I know nor what I think, but you will get in trouble.”

“If you cause me trouble, you will also cause Sybilla trouble. Is that your wish?”

He was trying to pull a trick on her. Aspasia squinted her eyes and grinned sarcastically. “I don’t need to do anything, as a matter of fact. You cannot sin and expect to have a good life. We will all pay the price for our actions.”

“You including.”

Aspasia rolled her eyes. “Are we done here? Am I free to go?”

Balian crossed his arms over his chest. “You have to tell me where you are heading and for how long. You may be very well trying to run away for good, for all I know.”

“I already told Tiberias about this. I don't have to answer your questions.”

Balian answered to this: “And I have no reason to trust your words.”

“That is true. But you may have noticed that I don’t carry on me my belongings – all are still in my rooms – and the horse is not mine. I am bound to return.”

Balian thought about it for a moment.

“I assume you are searching for Phillip. This is a bad idea. Tiberias must have told you to not put your nose everywhere, this case is no longer yours.”

“And it was never yours to begin with. I repeat myself: are we done here?”

If Balian could, he would have probably slapped Aspasia across the face. She had a talent to play with people’s nerves. He nevertheless let her go, his eyes fixated on her as she climbed on the Zephyr.

Aspasia could finally breathe; her heart was still racing. The nun smiled at her reassuringly. “For the love of God,” she whispered to Aspasia, “don’t get yourself in any more trouble.”

“I will try not to.”

“If you need a lead, try heading to the east. Outside of the city gates, there are small towns with caravans, where pilgrims often camp. There is a ruin that seems to be causing some fuss, I heard something from one sick patient. Perhaps this is going to be helpful?”

Aspasia licked her upper lip and looked around. The information she had been given was too vague to be considered useful, but she did not have anything else to help her on her mission, so she was going to visit the site anyway.

“I … will do that, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I am slightly modifying and expending the characters from the film. I have mixed feelings about most characters in the film and that is a good thing because that makes them more human in away. This impression I had of these characters is reflected in the way Aspasia sees them and behaves around them.
> 
> I wanted to make Sybilla more friendly and approachable. In the movie she was always observed from afar and did not interact with female characters (only her personal maid). I imaged that if another female character were to appear at the castle, the two of them would either become rivals or bestfriends. I chose friends because the two girls complement each other and also share many flaws, which will be interesting to explore in the future.
> 
> Balian, for instance, was a character in the film I found was trying to present himself as moral and righteous, but he would not deal with an issue himself and prefered to push it onto others. He would lecture Sybilla about doing the right thing and about sin but would leave the problems to her,. In the end, Balian was 'doing the right and just things' while Sybilla was forced to make impossible choices and precipitate the rest of the characters to their doom. I could go on about it, and do this type of analysis to the other characters.


	10. Hidden Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia finds Phillip's hideout and searches for clues. Little did she know, there were knights that came after her.

Not long after that, Aspasia reached the outskirts of the city. Jerusalem was delimited by tall walls and guards at their posts watched over the traffic of knights and pilgrims. The gates on the east side, in the direction of the sea and of Europe, were the busiest ones of all. Houses made of stone had been made outside the walls, perhaps due to the lower taxes, but they were the most vulnerable ones during a time of war.

Zephyr trotted quietly among the people while Aspasia searched with her eyes for ruins that attracted a lot of activity, has she has been hinted. Unfortunately, there were too many houses and too many crumbled buildings that formed piles of rocks for her to find a specific one. Perhaps that was the advantage of having a hideout as such. If Aspasia were to plot against the royal family, she too would have hidden in a place where there was a lot of activity, far away from prying eyes, and mundane enough to not catch the attention of anyone. A poorer area was ideal.

As they got further from the walls, the houses looked more crumbled than the previous. The rooftop of several of them had fallen and many did not even have a door, sign that the passage of time damaged everything. Aspasia played with her feet with the dirt on the ground, then patted Zephyr on the muzzle.

“When I look at you, I am reminded of Pegasus,” spoke Aspasia to no one in particular, “both of you are named after Greek myths.” Zephyr was surprisingly gentle and patient. If what Balian said was true, then Zephyr was worthy of being the horse of a King.

Aspasia reached the last house before the land turned into sand and dust. She looked into the distance, imagining all the people who had traversed the sea to get to the Holy Land, a route she, herself, took.

“Should we check out this abandoned ruin?” Aspasia asked herself. She led Zephyr to a tree, where she tied the horse, and jumped over the fence made of stones. One wall had crumbled down and Aspasia entered from there. Inside the abandoned house, a thin layer of sand covered the floor and a few plants had grown in the humid corners of the rooms.

As she inspected the place, she felt a small current of air at the level of her ankles. Curious about that, she made her way through the rooms and found a dead end. There was only a table in a corner and a small window that allowed some light inside.

Upon further inspection, Aspasia noticed that the dust on the surface of the table was not distributed evenly: someone had placed an object on the table and picked it up some time after, indicating that this place was not as abandoned as it looked. She looked around carefully but could not find any hidden door or secret trap.

What she found, however, was a secret drawer underneath the table. It involved a special mechanism that seemed to be stuck in place, but Aspasia applied force on it and cracked it open. Several pieces of wood broke and felt loudly on the floor, as the hidden device was broken for good. Aspasia placed her hand inside the hidden storage and blindly searched for anything. Her hand found a slip of parchment which she quickly pulled out and opened.

When she unfolded, she realized these were actually two pieces of parchment, placed one on the other, and folded together. One seemed to be written to Phillip and the second one was written by Phillip to the contact. She scanned the first letter addressed to Phillip, finally understanding the content as it was written in Greek. It pressed him to take action because things on the side of the royal family were moving and it would not wait any longer. Phillip’s letter, the answer to the first one, was not completed however. Aspasia guessed he was meant to send it but never managed to. It spoke about finding someone else to do the job and about a secured artefact – Aspasia had no idea what he was referring to – but it appeared he had not finished writing it either.

She scratched her head, trying to make sense of the content and the purpose of targeting Tiberias and the King. It appeared to her that their goal wasn’t just to overthrow the royal family and provoke a change in the balance of powers, but something about an artefact. Aspasia went over both letters once again, trying to find more information about the artefact, but nothing was said: both Phillip and the contact knew about it enough to not speak about it. It could have also meant that nothing was to be divulged in the letter, if it were to be intercepted.

She began to feel a bit frustrated, seeing now how her initial idea was far from the truth: Aspasia had no hand in this story, she was just unlucky to have been handpicked by Phillip to complete his job. What the letter did confirm was that Phillip was not alone in this. It was unclear how many people were involved in this conspiracy.

But again, the contrary could be said: what if the first letter, written by the nameless contact, was forged? It wasn’t surprising to Aspasia that the handwriting was similar as calligraphy was thought to scholars when they first learned how to write, but perhaps Phillip wanted to throw people off his trail, if he got caught, so he wrote another letter by an imaginary character. He would have in the process created an ‘artefact’ to change the narrative.

The sound of Zephyr agitated outside caught Aspasia’s attention. It took a lot to shake off that horse, which meant something bad was taking place outside. Aspasia quickly hid the two letters, closed the drawer in the best way she could, and bolted outside. She ran to the horse, parkouring over the stone fence around the house. Three knights with a Templar symbol on their chest surrounded the horse, one of them trying to untie Zephyr.

Aspasia stopped from her tracks and looked around. All three of them had their face concealed by the helmet they wore. They were armed and had come specifically for her. She looked around frantically, looking to see where the other inhabitants were, but all had evacuated for an unknown reason.

“This isn’t good.” Where they here on her father’s orders? Have they found her in Jerusalem? Where they working for Phillip? Or were they posing as Templar knights?

Her heart was beating fast but the fact that they dared to touch Zephyr made her angry.

“Leave the horse. It’s me who you want.”

She had her hidden blades; she had her daggers and a sword. She lacked the armor but she was going to be good.

One of the knights branded the sword and held it above his head. Aspasia gulped as the two others behind circled her like wolves ready to attack. She looked around her, trying to discern what they were thinking but their body language was impossible to read. Strangely, she hoped the horse would get away: Zephyr was of more value to the palace than she will ever be. If the King lost his precious horse, she would have to deal with the consequences.

The first knight began walking toward her. He charged at her with the sword, almost slashing her across the chest. She was quick enough to roll on the side and push her body up to land on her feet. One knight grabbed her by the torso and pinned her arms to her body. The third knight ran to her but she used her legs to kick him and her hidden blades to stab the knight who held her in the thighs.

Freeing herself from his grip, she then grabbed his wrists, crossed his arms, and kicked him in the chin. The sound of the metal helmet against his chin was loud and indicated she may have broken something. There was no time for complaining about the pain between her legs, for having stretched out her leg so far up, she grabbed the Templar’s round shield and threw it like a disc at the sole knight still standing up. The shield hit him on the end and bounced back, this time toward the tree where Zephyr was tied. The horse started moving but could not escape.

Aspasia ran to the knight, stood above him and held him by the collar. She then pulled off the helmet and exposed her hidden blade again. She was about to pass it through his eye when a strong arm prevented her from doing so.

She looked up at the man who arrived. Recognizing Balian, she relaxed a bit. “Don’t do something you will regret later.” He then pulled her up, and kicked the knight in the face, putting him forcefully to sleep. Aspasia felt her heartbeat in her chest and realized how much she had been sweating. There was a mixture of shock and gratefulness in her eyes as Balian tied the first knight so he could not move.

“Did you follow me here?”

Balian moved onto the second knight and did the same thing: tie him up and put him on his horse to carry back to prison. He looked at her and nodded his head. “I can’t trust you that you will not run away and escape your punishment.”

“But I told you that I have already discussed this matter with Tiberias!” argued Aspasia, feeling angrier.

“Maybe, but Tiberias is more obedient when it comes to Sybilla. You will receive orders in life but you are also tasked to act according what you deem to be best.”

Aspasia scoffed. “Always the _perfect knight_. I should be used by your attitude already. I would have been grateful if you had intervened _earlier_ , if you claim you were watching me the whole time.”

She proceeded to help Balian put the knights on the horse back, and when they were done, they headed back to the castle. Balian led her through a less crowded path, to which Aspasia was almost grateful: she was a bit embarrassed by the way she looked, all dressed up in a beautiful deep blue dress, but dirty and bruised. She could imagine she smelled of sweat and her hair was in need of a brushing and washing.

She asked herself if Balian was the right person to show the letters she had found. There was a chance that he was also on board on the case with Tiberias but Aspasia was convinced she could use the letters to her advantage later. If she managed to show the people at the castle that she could find evidence and was also the best candidate to send out, she would have more bargaining power.

Aspasia quickly sent a look in Balian’s direction and felt his eyes set on her back, almost as if he sensed it too. She quickly returned her gaze on the street and patted Zephyr that carried one of the knights.

“Do you have any idea who these men are, exactly?” Balian asked.

Aspasia shrugged.

“They targeted you, and only you, that means you must have done something.”

Aspasia groaned. “Why do I always have to be the guilty one?”

Balian shrugged. “You seem to be attracting the bad people. I, too, am not too fond on the Templar knights, but they don’t attack me on sight.”

Aspasia lost all the colors in her face. Balian was onto something, whether he knew what it was about or not. “They come for me because I am a nobody and I can fight.”

Balian seemed to agree a bit with that statement. “Well, what matters is that Zephyr is alright. It is in your best interest to not inform the King of your … decision of taking the horse. He may not be too fond of it.”

Aspasia nodded. She realized how new she was to this world. She had only met Sybilla and Isabella, both were lovely to her but nothing like she would have imagined a royal to be like. The rest of the castle spoke of the King in away that confirmed her presuppositions but she was prepared to see a different character than an authoritarian figure.

“Where is the King? I never see him, only hear of him.”

Balian seemed surprised that Aspasia was engaging in a civilized discussion. “He is sick, and so he rarely leaves his chambers, even less the castle.”

“That explains why Zephyr is so well-behaved and calm. Perfect for a sick rider.”

Balian nodded in approval.

“What sickness are we talking about?” Aspasia pressed.

She wasn’t sure it was a good idea but she had to be aware of who she was going to face, eventually. She had formed in her head an imagine of an archetypal king but the one in Jerusalem seemed to defy her expectations.

“It is … leprosy,” spoke Balian, as if it pained him to say the word, or imagine the disease.

There was a mixture of emotions, Aspasia felt confused, saddened and worried at the same time. It sounded horrible; Aspasia could only imagine what life must have felt like to live with the worst disease of all. It must have involved ostracization, isolation and fear in others. She asked herself how did a kingdom like this survived, surrounded by Muslim nations, if the king was sick.

“Hopefully, you will refrain from saying anything stupid.”

Balian smirked at her, making Aspasia slow down from her tracks. He took that opportunity to walk ahead of her and lead the way. “Do you really think that lowly of me?”

Balian did not answer that, but Aspasia could see him sport a grin which frustrated her a bit more. She thought she would never be able to be on good terms with him - not that she was desperate to do that. Their walk did not last long because soon, the castle was in their field of vision. Soon, Balian and Aspasia had entered the perimeter of the castle. They notice how agitated the people are. Unsure of what was happening, Aspasia sent Balian a questioning look, but soon realized that Balian did not know what was happening either. He took the reins of Zephyr from Aspasia’s hand and said: “I’ll handle the horses and the knights. You should speak to Tiberias about what happened. And also get changed.”

She grinned, finding amusing that he pointed out the state of her clothes and of her hair. She trusted Balian to get the horses to the stables and arrest the knights, and left for the Marshall’s office. When she got there, she found Tiberias busier than earlier in the morning. When his eyes set upon her and noticed how awful she looked, his shoulders dropped heavily and he massaged his forehead.

"Aspasia, I cannot deal with you right now,” he mumbled, “I’m sure you went through an adventure worthy of telling tales about but now is not the time. Can you see that I am busy?”

Aspasia strolled into the office and sat down on one of the comfortable chairs. There were two other knights in different uniforms that looked at her with intrigue. Aspasia paid no attention to them and spoke to Tiberias: “well, you should consider lending a ear. I have something that might interest you.”

Tiberias circled the desk and walked to her: “can we discuss this matter much later? We have an execution in a few moments.”

Aspasia’s eyebrows shot up. This explained the agitation among the court.

“I will meet you later, then? It’s important that I speak to you, Tiberias.”

He must have understood the implicit message of it, for he nodded his head and walked her out of his office. She understood that everyone seemed busy and so she returned to her rooms to bathe and to change clothes. When she finished doing that, she decided to attend the execution. Perhaps if she eavesdropped on people, she could learn more about the crimes committed. She searched for Sybilla, hoping the princess would know more about what was happening, but she was nowhere to be found. Aspasia could only follow the crowd to the piazza where they held the execution. She did not walk too long before she reached a busy square. The crowds were agitated, either content with the decision made or protesting it. High on a podium, several men in Templar uniforms were put to stand while someone placed a rope around their neck.

Aspasia avoided the crowd by making her way through a small alley, then climbed the wall until she reached the rooftop. She pulled up her sleeves and held the hem of her dress in one hand for it would have otherwise restrained her movements. Under the hot sun of the afternoon, Aspasia could see from above clearly the faces of the men who were hanged. She did not recognize any of them, but she guessed these Templar knights came from France, based on their features.

One was pushed off the podium, held only by the rope around the neck. The body dangled in the air, moving but restrained by ropes around their legs and arms. It grew limp, eventually, until it stopped movie. Then the second knight, and third. They must have done something bad in order to be killed, for the kingdom could not afford to simply execute misbehaving men. She could only guess the type of crime they committed.

She looked afar, behind the podium, on a balcony. There, she spotted Tiberias, in his favorite sky-blue cape. He had had a serious expression on his face and spoke to another man who had his back turned to the crowd. Aspasia noted how they stood in the shadows, a spot from where she was capable of seeing them, from the rooftop, but from where the crowd couldn’t. Tiberias spoke quickly and used his hands, while the other man listened and did not move.

What Aspasia noticed was that the man was dressed in white and pale blue. He wore a robe that covered his whole body, that did not give any particular shape, and a scarf covered his hair. The material was perhaps made of expensive silk from far away lands and the details made of a golden thread, which she could not distinguish from afar.

Throughout the conversation with Tiberias, he remained as still as a statue, but after several minutes, he moved his limbs slowly and spoke to Tiberias. Whatever he said dissipated Tiberias’ agitation. The man than made a hand gesture – Aspasia noticed he was also wearing gloves – and walked away, stepping out of the balcony. Two guards in royal uniform followed the man, and Tiberias was alone on the balcony.

She grew curious, wondering who that man was. She had never seen him before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially, the previous chapters and the ones following this one were meant to be in a single chapter, which I decided to divide for clearer understanding. 
> 
> Do you think the characters' attitude toward Aspasia is justified? Does she deserve to be treated differently?


	11. Sister Bertha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia goes to interrogate the nun who directed her to Phillip's hideout.

Late in the evening, Aspasia was called by Sybilla to another meeting on the same balcony. She could guess what urgent matter Sybilla wished to discuss with her and Tiberias. Tired but curious to hear from the Count of Tripoli and the princess, she headed to meet the others, the evidence hidden inside her sleeve. As she arrived there, Sybilla opened the door for her and welcomed her in. To Aspasia’s surprise, Tiberias was not seated alone at the table. “What is he doing here?” Aspasia asked, pointing at Balian who sat at the other end of the table.

Sybilla threw a glance at Balian, then at Aspasia. She appeared unpreoccupied by the palpable tension between the knight and Aspasia. Little did she know that their relationship has slightly improved, to the extent they could have a conversation that lasted several minutes. That did not mean they were thrilled to see each other.

“I heard you went on a scavenger hunt today, and there was an interesting turn of events,” spoke Sybilla. She then focused her attention entirely on Tiberias and told him: “I am really sorry to have to request your presence this evening. I am conscious of the amount of work that rests on your shoulders, but I thought it was an important matter.”

Tiberias nodded his head slowly. “Please, go on and do not mind me.”

Balian stood up and approached the three other characters, taking a seat between Sybilla and Tiberias. “Maybe it would be best if Aspasia told the story from her perspective,” he spoke, looking at her, “she may know more than I do on the matter.”

Aspasia sighed. She hated being put in a tight spot, and Balian seemed to excel at doing that. She scratched the back of her head, nervously. Suddenly, the tips of her slippers were more interesting than the conversation. “Well…” she started, “I was given a clue regarding the location of Phillip’s whereabouts.”

“You found it?” Sybilla asked surprised.

“Yes. It was somewhere outside the city, in an abandoned house. It looked desolated, enough to not be habited by travellers or pilgrims. There was barely any furniture in the house, simple a table, but I noticed that there were traces of activities. You see, dust sets evenly on a surface, but that was not the case there. I searched the place and found a secret drawer built underneath the table. It was very well done, for the drawer was flat and built into the table, so I had to force it open, and found two letters inside.

Luckily, Aspasia carried the letters on her. She unfolded them and handed them to Tiberias, who had extended his hand toward her. He analyzed them, then passed them on to Sybilla and Balian. Aspasia waited in silence for them to finish reading them.

“Can you confirm if this is Phillip’s handwriting?” asked Sybilla.

Aspasia shook her head. She had never seen him write before. When she first met him, she would have never guessed that he learned how to read and to write, and he could not have guessed it for her.

“And you were attacked when you got out?”

Aspasia nodded her head. “Although I cannot say if they were waiting for me specifically.”

Sybilla frowned, then turned to face Balian: “have they woken up yet? No? And when will you have the chance to interrogate them, if not tonight?”

“I understand that we need to hurry. Perhaps Guy would be requesting for their release,” admitted Balian, “but as far as I know, we cannot assume they are members of the Templar Order. They could have very well stolen a few uniforms and shields.”

Sybilla groaned. Both of them seemed to share their opinion on this man named Guy. Aspasia could only guess that Guy was another member of the court with influence. If Balian and Sybilla worried that this man could ‘request their release’, it meant that he was far more powerful than Balian and Sybilla together.

“Aspasia… Who exactly told you to look for Phillip’s hideout there?” Tiberias asked.

Aspasia noticed she had made herself as small as possible: knees glued together, hands on them, shoulders soft and brought to the front, head hanging low. She shifted in her seat. “There was a nun who took care of me at the hospital. She claimed to have heard rumors. It was about a sort of commotion among the people living outside the city walls, which seemed to have attracted the attention of pilgrims.”

“But was there any commotion outside?”

There was a pause. No. Not today, at the very least.

In fact, the area was quiet and deserted. Perhaps there was more activity at night.

She could not argue against it this time. Aspasiadid not need to wait for Tiberias’ comment to come, she had already understood the tacit message. The nun had to be interrogated. Then, they would need to find the people who reported that strange activity outside the city walls.

Aspasia wanted to smack her forehead: she should have been more cautious. It was another one of her misjudgements of character – just like in Athens.

“Should we go tonight? Or tomorrow?” Aspasia asked, feeling her cheeks burn.

“We should go tonight,” answered Sybilla, “what if she is part of it and tries to run away?”

Aspasia and Balian stood up, and Sybilla soon followed. Tiberias quickly put his hand on Sybilla’s arm and said: “Princess, you should stay here. I will send Balian to accompany Aspasia, it may be too dangerous for you.”

“What? But I want to be part of it! I want to help,” protested the princess.

Tiberias sent her a grave look, almost like a father would when his child would be agitated. Sybilla protested but in vain, Tiberias led her outside, walking her back to her chambers, and he indicated Aspasia and Balian to leave.

Aspasia threw one last look behind her shoulders, as Tiberias and Sybilla disappeared in the corridor, and followed Balian. The baron walked in firm and quick steps; Aspasia had to jog to keep up with him. She sent him a worried look. If he believed things were going to take a turn, Aspasia could not help but feel worried.

“This is not the first time this has happened to me,” admitted Aspasia.

“What do you mean by this?”

“When I was in Athens,” counted Aspasia, “a woman befriended me and offered me food and a bed for the night. I was fooled by her kindness when in reality, she was trying to do the same thing.”

“So, you have this unspoken ability of getting people to come after you,” chuckled Balian.

Aspasia did not find it amusing.

Balian brought her to the stables, and once again, Aspasia chose Zephyr. Before she could climb the horse, Balian caught her leg and stopped her. “This is the King’s horse.”

“Yes?”

“And you cannot simply take it.”

Aspasia laughed. “It’s a good horse.”

“It’s an _excellent_ horse,” corrected Balian. “But it’s not yours. Take the other one, instead.” He showed her another horse, brown in colour but just as big. Aspasia groaned but did not fight Balian over it. Balian climbed on his horse, a black one with white spots, and Aspasia followed him closely as they navigated through the quiet streets.

“I should change clothes, these dresses are not practical for horse riding,” she commented. “Are you not carrying a sword with you, at the moment?”

Balian turned his head to look at her. “I’m sure we won’t need it,” he said.

Aspasia scoffed. “You never know.” At the very least she had on her the hidden blades and her daggers, which she kept since she had arrived to the castle from the execution. When they saw they were nearing the hospital, both of them got off their hose and tied them to a pole nearby. Aspasia handed him a dagger, which he looked at it with a confused look. “You don’t want it? Are you sure? Very well…”

Balian ended up taking it, which made Aspasia laugh. “Do you know what her name is?” Balian asked her,

“No. But I will recognize her when I see her.”

He did not seem reassured. Aspasia indicated to him that she will lead the way, and walked in front of him. They took a turn and arrived at the square in front of the hospital. It was quieter than usual, with only a few apartments still had their candles to illuminate the room. Aspasia walked to the main door and knocked there. There was always someone walked through the main corridor of the hospital, they were bound to open the door for her.

The two of them waited for an answer, someone answered them moments later. It was a man Aspasia recognized who was in charge of washing the linen. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry, do you remember me? I used to stay here a few days ago. I am looking for a nun,” Aspasia answered.

“Do you have her name?”

Aspasia sent Balian a worried look. “Yes, about that… I never asked for her name. but she was in charge of the second floor, and she worked here in the evenings, otherwise, she went to the monastery, the one where …”

The man looked at Aspasia, then at Balian. He must have seen that they did not look menacing enough to cause harm or worse, so he allowed them to come in. He told them to wait near the door as he went to fetch the woman.

Moments in an awkward silence passed, until the man appeared with a nun who wasn’t the one they were looking for. Aspasia recognized her as the headmistress of the Hospital, she was in charge of all the staff and coordinated all the activity and work rotation. A severe woman who looked like a crow, in her clothes.

“You are looking for Sister Bertha, am I correct? She was in charge of your floor if I remember well, but she left not long ago.”

“Where did she go?” Aspasia asked.

“Back to Florence, last time I heard.”

Balian coughed behind her, and Aspasia felt the blood drain from her face.

“Florence? Not the monastery,” she asked stupidly.

“Yes, this is what I said.”

The nun looked clearly annoyed by Aspasia. Balian and her presence did not feel very welcomed. She looked at the knight who seemed just as surprised as she was but did not say anything.

“Did she say anything before she left? Or did she leave anything behind?”

The man looked at Aspasia, then at the nun, and scratched the back of his head. “Well, she did seem nervous for an unknown reason. I assumed it had to do with some money issues, but nothing that could not be fixed. We have ships coming to Jerusalem and leaving constantly, so if she were not to get on the first one that got here, she was bound to leave on the next one. It was not as if she did not have a place to stay until the got enough gold.”

The head nun did not show much facial expression, but she seemed to agree with that statement.

“Well, thank you very much, then,” intervened Balian. He put a hand on Aspasia’s shoulder and led her out. They excused themselves and left for their horses. They were walked outside by the nun and the man until they disappeared behind the buildings.

Aspasia felt her fingers tremble and she sent one last look behind her shoulder. When they arrived at the pole to which the horses were tied, Balian seemed to notice Aspasia's discomfort when she hesitated to climb on her horse. He was about to push Aspasia up when she brushed off his hand and instead said:

“Are you thinking what I am thinking? That Sister Bertha was _not_ heading for Florence? That she had something to do with it and that she may have been working with Phillip? Or maybe it was not that, but she sensed the danger and ran away? I fear something may have happened to her.”

“We should report to Tiberias before we jump to any conclusions.” He was losing patience with her and Aspasia was not in the mood for a fight that night. She decided to comply for now and perhaps persuade Tiberias to send some men to look for Sister Bertha. Aspasia was thorn between waiting for further instructions or go on a search by herself. If she had left today, perhaps the woman was not far away, and Aspasia could reach her before the sunrise. On the other hand, there was no way to know for sure where the nun was. Florence was perhaps just an excuse to send them on a wild goose chase.


	12. Pilgrim Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia gives Sybilla her first lesson in fighting and self-defence. The princess invites her to a party that she will be hosting.
> 
> Aspasia heads to the port where boats arrive and leave for Europe, in hopes to gather information about Sister Bertha.

The following morning, Aspasia laid in her bed until someone knocked on her door to wake her up. When that happened, she pulled up the covers to hide and hugged her knees. There was something that bothered her, but she could not put her finger on it. She was reminded of the woman in Athens who seemed lovely and welcoming, after she welcomed Aspasia into her house to spend the night, but all of that was to betray her after. The same thing happened with Sister Bertha when she arrived at the hospital. Aspasia had been cautious from the get-go, but still trusted the innocent-looking woman. She had been fooled twice, and she hated that because she had no one who to blame but herself. She promised herself that from this point onward, she would be more skeptical, especially around women, since they had betrayed her more than men have. The Order must have known that she would be more willing to trust a female and it was the easiest way to lure her back. Was her judgement of character poorer than she thought it was? What could she too to become better at that? The more she brooded about it, the more she was beginning to doubt everything, including the maids who worked at the palace. That paranoia was not a healthy thing, and she could not allow it to continue. The only positive outcome from it was that these events have taught her something: the Order had spies everywhere, and their communication system was vast and quick - words travelled fast and perhaps many people were aware of her location, in Jerusalem.

"Come in," Aspasia said when she heard a knock on the door. To her surprise, the woman who walked in was not a maid, but the princess herself. Sibylla wore a sad look on her face as she spotted Aspasia lying in bed, covers reaching her chin, hair uncombed and pale complexion.

“Oh, Lord... I thought you would never wake up,” she said, shaking the young woman’s arm softly, “if you don’t feel up to the lesson, we can always have it tomorrow.”

How strange, for Sibylla to be indulgent and not boss her around. Aspasia's behaviour did not fly when she was in Macedonia. Someone would have dragged her by the hair to get changed and get ready for the day. Aspasia stood up and tried to arrange her hair and smoothen her clothes to make herself look more presentable. Sybilla was awfully empathic – a woman full of beautiful qualities. “No, no. I am sorry for my tardiness, I was not feeling well, if I may be honest,” she admitted, “but give me a bit of time and I will come and join you downstairs. What will it be today? Greek or fighting?”

“How about you teach me how to fight, but you instruct me in Greek?” Sybilla winked at her, thinking she was being funny.

This made Aspasia laugh, mostly out of embarrassment. The latter cleared her throat and said: “I do not intend to sound rude, but I do not believe you are prepared to do this yet. We ought to see the vocabulary that is related to the human body and verbs specific to the theme of combat. This activity will have to be kept for another time.”

Sybilla laughed at her remark. Letting her know that she will be downstairs, she left Aspasia’s chamber so that the young woman could get dressed and eat her first meal of the day. Not long after, Aspasia was out of her room and heading downstairs. As she stepped out, into the gardens, she was met by a beautiful little boy with a toy in his hand. “Oh!” Aspasia exclaimed as she was about to bump into him, “I am so sorry!” The boy smiled sheepishly and ran away, a wooden horse in his hand. Aspasia watched the blond curls on his head bounce as he sprinted away. She had the vivid image of his striking blue eyes in his head.

“Are you coming?” a feminine voice called for her. Sybilla was waiting for her, back against a wall, looking at Aspasia with her eyebrows shot up.

“I did not know there were children in the palace,” chuckled Aspasia.

“Yes, that was my son whom you just met. He wanted to learn how to fight with you. He is very much interested in fighting, horse races and playing war with his figures, as are most boys of his age.”

Aspasia’s mouth was agape. She had no idea Sybilla had a son. Frankly, she did not play the part of a mother much, but it was very common for women of their age. Aspasia was an exception to the rule, having been given more freedom and having done intense training to get where she was, of course, she did not have kids of her own. “He has beautiful eyes,” Aspasia commented. She then paid closer attention to Sybilla and noticed how different the two of them looked. Perhaps her son resembled his father more than his mother. “Shall we get started? I hope you are comfortable in these slippers because we will be working hard today.”

←→

Sybilla had fallen on the ground countless times before she was ready to give up. Looking up at her instructor, her shoulders fell heavily, and she attempted to stand up. “Are you going to give up?” asked Aspasia.

“I don’t want to but I’m afraid this time, I am very exhausted and will not be able to stand on my feet for very long.” There was a smile on Aspasia’s lips as the Princess admitted defeat. Both of them were equally stubborn, this exercise has proven. Aspasia extended her hand and helped the princess stand up. “So today, we have reviewed techniques to defend yourself from an attacker and ways to escape their grip, if ever they were to hold you hostage. Shall I test you on this next time? To see if you remember?”

Sybilla laughed nervously and arranged her robe. “Next time, I will be more prepared: both physically and mentally. I am extremely grateful for your help, Aspasia. And your friendship, too. I feel that you understand me better than most people.”

Again, Aspasia was taken aback. She had no answer ready for the princess. It was one way Sybilla made sure she was above all, Aspasia noticed. The princess was unexpected and full of surprises, which never failed to take Aspasia by surprise. Perhaps this was her own personal way of making sure she remained superior to all - it indicated that Sybilla knew how to read people and was telling them things they wished to hear, and have never heard. The Princess took Aspasia’s hands in her own and thanked her one more time. From the corner of the eyes, Aspasia saw Sybilla’s personal maid wait for her by the door.

“I guess this is the moment when we part ways,” said Aspasia. “What business do you have to attend?”

“I have to get a few clothes fitted for my son. After that, I will attend a party, which I will host in my quarters. You are invited also, Aspasia. I don’t suppose you have anything else to do, no tasks or obligations.”

Aspasia thought about it. She guessed Sybilla was a woman who liked the pleasures of life and paid little interest to the political conflicts going on in the kingdom, unlike Tiberias or Balian. Naturally, she would be the one to invite people in her social circle and bring life to the party. If this was her opportunity to meet other women and socialize, Aspasia was up for it. “Will I need to wear a particular outfit? Is a dress like the one I’m wearing good?”

“It’s lovely,” confirmed Sybilla, “what you wear is very appropriate, I will wear something similar to it. Please don’t feel pressured to dress in a particular way, it will be a very private dinner. You will meet many other wives or sisters of noblemen, but don’t be intimidated by them.”

Aspasia chuckled. “I doubt this will be the case. If anything, _I_ should be the one to try not to intimidate them.”

“That… is true,” smiled Sybilla, “I will see you later in the evening, then.”

Aspasia watched Sybilla jog to the maid. As she disappeared behind the columns, so did the guards, and silence settled in soon after. A bird chirped in a tree, Aspasia was going to head to her rooms, wash and head out for the city. It was perhaps not the wisest thing to do, as Tiberias would have asked someone to accompany her, but as long as she remained quiet about it and returned at a good time, she would go unnoticed.

After taking a bath and changing clothes, she headed back downstairs and sneaked her way to the stables. The man in charge must have become familiar with Aspasia by now – he either knew about her mischiefs or was made aware of them by Balian (because in all honesty, who else would have it been?) She made sure to give Zephyr a carrot before climbing on another horse. She did not want to attract any more attention to herself, but she admitted that she had grown fond of the spotted horse – it reminded her of Pegasus.

Now more familiar with the streets of Jerusalem, she avoided the crowded areas and rode her new horse to the city's outskirts. As she neared Phillip’s old hideout, she paid more attention to it. It seemed to be entirely vacant, not a single soul around it to keep an eye on it or defend it. There was nothing more to that place except an old ruin. Aspasia would no longer be paying more attention to it.

The horse took her into the desert, across a familiar path that led foreigners to the Holy City. It was the path she took to get there, and travellers and pilgrims constantly used it. Occasionally she would see knights in armours, and whenever it would be Templars, her gaze would be cast low. Luckily, no one paid attention to a woman on her horse, and she pursued her journey in peace. It was hours later that she reached the sea, with the water extending over the horizon. Somewhere, behind them, there were boats. And Florence. If Sister Bertha was truly heading for Florence… Aspasia made it, her goal to find the nearest port and ask people about the people boarding ships to the Republic of Florence.

After following the road and asking pilgrims about the nearest port, she was guided to a fishermen’s village where many ships brought cargo. She found a pole to which she could tie her horse to and asked people about the boats' schedule. And so, Aspasia walked around the small town but found no valuable information. The other nearest port from here came from the north, which was too far away to travel there in a single night. On top of that, a woman would have never made that trip alone, so Sister Bertha would have left from here if she had truly left Jerusalem.

Hours later, Aspasia walked back to her horse, frustrated by her lack of findings. She massaged her forehead and looked around. The hot sun from midday had lowered in the sky and it was about time to head back if she did not wish to be interrogated by Tiberias again. She climbed on her horse and rode back. She must have deviated from the road by accident and took another path because fewer and fewer pilgrims were using the paved path. Convinced she was not lost, she kept going. Jerusalem was not far from there – in one way or another, she will reach her destination for all the roads were leading to the same city.

She thought she was hallucinating due to the heat but in the distance, something caught her attention. It was a shapeless form, left in the sand, perhaps a lost object. She got off her horse and led it through the sand that built up as they advanced. Her feet were sinking slightly but she kept moving. As she approached the amorphous object, she realized it was something much bigger, half covered in sand. She kicked it and saw it move, then proceeded to dig it out. She realized that it was neither a bag nor another large object like a saddle, but a person's body. It was hot, covered in clothes and exposed to the Sun. She turned the body around and in horror gasped.

The hood that covered Sister Bertha’s face fell off. Her blond hair covered her face and her face looked severely bruised. Nothing was surprising about the remote location – ideal to take care of personal business. What was certain was that the woman was no longer breathing.

Had she been left to die?

Or had she been buried under the sand?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've made it this far in the reading, hi to you! hope you're doing well in life, and please spend more time with your loved ones! 
> 
> alright, see ya!


	13. Affairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia arrives back at the castle and needs to share her discovery, but stumbles upon an odd couple.

Upon arriving back to the palace, Aspasia frantically looked for someone – anyone – who could help her. She quickly realized that Sibylla was nowhere to be found. As for Balian, he had left for Ibelin in the morning. The only person who would be able to help her was Tiberias. She discovered very quickly that the man was constantly busy, travelling between his estate and the palace, where he also had an office. If she was lucky, she could find him in his office.

The first thing she did when she arrived was bring the horse back to the stables. A servant saw her arriving and helped her climb down, then led the creature inside, to feed it. When he first saw her, he was about to question her why she had taken that horse, but he quickly realized that her clothes were disheveled, and her hair tousled. Aspasia put the reins in his hand and ran before he could make another comment. She made her way through the gardens, then climbed upstairs, and ran across the corridors. She had a vague idea of where to find Tiberias’ office and knew it must have been one of the doors in that corridor. When she thought she had found it, she noticed that the doors were closed.

Knocking on them did not produce a response. She looked around and waited for a bit, hoping to see him turn a corner, but he never came. Walking along the corridor, she realized that she was not very familiar with the room there. Many of them must have been used as offices for those who worked in politics. Whoever occupied them – it made it seem as if Tiberias was not working alone after all.

Sounds came from one of the rooms. Aspasia’s ears buzzed as she hoped to see someone important. She had to share her discovery as soon as possible. Jogging in the direction of that room, she did not knock, but simply kicked the door open. To her surprise, it was not what she was expecting.

Instead of finding a politician or a guard, she found a couple – a Templar knight and a noblewoman – in each other’s arms, lips upon lips and clothes dishevelled. As soon as they noticed Aspasia, they took a step away from each other, and the woman quickly arranged her robes, adjusting the sleeves that had fallen off her shoulder. Something was not right about this – this was certainly not one of their rooms. They were obviously hiding.

The woman’s cheeks flushed. So did her ears. Aspasia focused her attention on her. She recognized her as one of the many women she saw around the castle. If she was not mistaken, that woman was married to a nobleman. As for the knight, his uniform indicated that he was part of the Order of the Temple. He was meant to follow a code of chastity, so why was he entangled in a woman’s arms?

“I will have a chat with this one, Arabella…” he spoke to the woman, then nodded. The woman nodded back, and left quickly, not looking at Aspasia a second time. The latter was left standing in the doorframe, aware of the moment of awkwardness that had settled. The man cracked his knuckles – something she interpreted as an attempt to puff himself up - and he took one slow step toward her. Then another. “I believe it is rude to enter a place without knocking,” he told Aspasia.

“Right… _I_ am the one who is to be lectured about manners. As for you, you are permitted to behave much worse and be free of consequences. Please, tell me who _Arabella_ is, and explain to me _why_ I know that you two are doing something bad.”

“Perhaps you came here _knowingly_ …”

Aspasia grimaced. What was he implying? The man with long brown hair brought his hand to her chin. He was about to touch her with it when she smacked it. He retracted his hand.

“You’re a feisty one,” he said, “what I learned is that the women who are the loudest in public tend to be the most obedient in bed –“

“-Cut the crap,” snapped Aspasia, not even wanting to hear the rest of it, “if you’re trying to buy my silence, know that it will not work with me. That woman who just left is married. On top of that, you took an oath before entering the Order, have you not? You best respect it. I can’t believe I am the one who has to remind you that.”

Her father was a Templar also. He too did not respect his oath, and he was free of consequences – something that she despised. Having lived among Templars herself, she was familiarized with their philosophy, their lifestyle and their purposes. People like this man angered her more than anything.

“This sounds like a threat,” laughed the knight.

Something about him made Aspasia’s blood curdle. His carefree attitude, his lack of embarrassment or his guts for attempting to lure Aspasia in. She was worried that he might be know her father or he might even recognize. She could not let him know that. It was very possible that the branch of the Order in the Holy Kingdom may have connections with the one in Macedonia.

She had this urge to push him over the edge. Test his limits. It crossed her mind that she could use this incident to manipulate him. If she could have the upper hand in this conflict, it would have reassured her, because she knew he could bring harm to her if he wanted to.

For now, it did not matter much. She was going to hold that information against him and use it when the right opportunity presented itself.

“It is a warning. I hope to not see you around for the following days, or it will be awkward for you.”

The man gave her a small smile and walked past her. Whether he took her message seriously or not, it did not matter much. He heard her; she was loud and clear, and it would be his best interest to be more mindful. As for the woman, Aspasia will have to think about what to do to her. After all, she could not think of any particular way to use her. The woman, the next time she would see Aspasia, would act nervous and embarrassed, unlike the knight, and that was good enough.

She watched the Templar knight walk away and disappear. When he was gone for good, Aspasia left the room as well. It took her a few moments to recollect her thoughts and understand what had just happened. If she could learn both their names and their role in the palace, perhaps she could use that pertinent information in the future. Otherwise, what was the point in discovering a married woman have an affair with a knight who followed a code of chivalry? In reality, there was nothing unusual about this situation: among the rich, all was permitted. If the two of them were smart enough, they would keep a low profile for awhile.

She left the wing of the building, head hanging low and a bit disturbed, but hoped to meet Tiberias quickly. On her way out, she saw across the garden Sibylla with two other women, all three of them wearing lavish dresses and beautiful jewelry. The women each held a cup of wine and laughed at every single thing that Sibylla said. The princess’ eyes fell upon Aspasia. The latter, aware of the sorry state she was in, tried to take a few steps back and make an exit, when the princess called for her.

“Where do you think you are going? Have you forgot about my party?”

Sibylla lifted the hem of her dress a bit to run with more ease and caught up to Aspasia. Now, everyone had their eyes on her. “I’m sorry but look at me. I am all dirty and I don’t smell good. I have to shower before I can meet you. Where is Tiberias?”

“Tiberias?” Sibylla asked, “you have something important to tell him? He’s not here at the moment.”

Aspasia gave the princess a severe look full of meaning. The princess guessed it had something to do with Phillip. She did not say another word about it. Instead, she instructed Aspasia to get changed and told her, if she wished, they could arrange a meeting with him the next day or with the king, if the matter was that urgent.

“I would rather not disturb his royal highness with this,” admitted Aspasia. Not only that, but she feared from meeting the monarch, especially after everything she had done, “besides, Tiberias is in charge of this and I would rather consult him.”

“Then I will send word to Tiberias and ask for his presence tomorrow if that is alright with you. Now, go change. The party does not wait for you.”

Aspasia ran to her room to bathe and change her clothes. The maid came to her aid when it came to do her hair and placed jewelry around her neck. She looked at the colourful stones reflect the light, a bit unsure what to do or think of it. Her thoughts wandered to the jewelry she had sold to the merchant when she came to Jerusalem. They looked cheaper and less refined than the ones she was given, but she was fond of them. She had always secretly been a very feminine girl, loved dresses and jewelry, but they have never been practical to her line of work. She could not afford to buy them, additionally. Sibylla was a lucky woman to be able to buy whatever she pleased.

Dangling the bracelets around her wrists just to listen to the sound of metal clicketing, she headed to Sibylla’s rooms. From the inside came the sound of lyre and of chatter. She pushed open the door and saw a few women seated on the floor or on fancy daybed. Sibylla was counting a story, and all eyes were set on her. It was hard to determine if it was because what she was saying was interesting, or because everyone simply had to pretend it was.

The princess noticed Aspasia and quickly stood up. “Aspasia! I thought you had forgotten about me and went straight to bed!”

Aspasia scratched the back of her neck. “That… thought may have crossed my mind.” The women at the party giggled amongst themselves. Aspasia found an empty spot next to Sibylla and whispered just for her: “I have to be honest with you, Sibylla: this type of event is not something I’m used to. Do you have any news from Tiberias? We spoke about it earlier and I cannot stop thinking about it.”

Sibylla gave her a stern look. “Tiberias will be here tomorrow like I told you earlier. As for today, don’t think that it is your job to entertain us. Just keep us company for a while. Who knows: maybe you will end up liking it and you will make a friend.”

Was this part of Sibylla’s plan to push onto Aspasia the idea of a normal life? Did ordinary women have that many friends? It seemed unlikely, because most women worked all day with their husbands, either in the fields or at the market.

With no intention of further pushing the issue, Aspasia accepted a cup of wine she had been given. She then sat down on one of the pillows, a musician played his music in the background. Her eyes set upon the very familiar face of a woman – the one she had caught earlier in the day with the Templar knight. The woman cast her eyes down, the content of her chalice far more interesting than the topic of discussion. Aspasia would have said something, but her eyes said more than enough. She decided not to pay any more attention to her and looked back at Sibylla.

The princess called for the maids to fetch them more wine, and soon their glasses were refilled. Aspasia sipped her drink, listening attentively at the gossip. She discovered that they knew more than they led on about the drama going on at the palace. The more Aspasia drank, the more interesting the stories got. Sibylla had a talent for counting tales; she would add suspense, slow down or speak in a low tone, and everyone leaned in, as if she was sharing a secret.

To her own surprise, she founds herself laughing with the other women when the story was funny, or gasp when something unexpected happened. Another maid came with a jar with wine and poured the drink in Aspasia’s chalice. Taking another sip, she felt her cheeks turn slightly red and touched her forehead. It had been her third glass, which she was about to begin; she had never drunk this much alcohol before.

Sibylla was busy laughing at her own jokes, accompanied by the other noblewomen. Aspasia was fully aware that she was the only one standing out: she was a commoner, unlike the others, and she did not know their names nor their status. If she made an exit quietly, no one would notice.

She stood up and walked backward toward the door. On her way out, she emptied her cup, drinking it in a few gulps, then gave the empty cup to a maid. As she walked away, the sound of the party diminished, until she could no longer hear it. Putting her hand on her head, she could already anticipate the headache that was about to come the next day. On her way back to her quarter, she crossed path with the young prince. At this late hour at knight, he was still playing with his wooden toys on the carpeted floor.

“What are you doing up?” she asked the young prince, Baldwin. The little boy looked up at the young woman.

“I couldn’t sleep and I went to look for _maman,_ but she is busy.”

He must have known about the princess hosting a party. Perhaps it was the noise that woke him up. Aspasia did not want to be the one to take care of Baldwin at that moment. She drank earlier and did not think she was capable of tucking him in bed in the state she was in. It was also Sibylla's duty to take care of her own son. It appeared that she did not have much of a choice this time. The party was still ongoing and Sibylla most likely assumed that Baldwin was put to bed by a servant or his own tutor. “Well, _maman_ is busy. Perhaps you would like me to tuck you into bed?” There was disappointment in his look, but he quickly stood up, packed his toys and took Aspasia by the hand. Together, they walked to his room, which was not far from the princess’s quarters. Aspasia asked herself how Baldwin was able to sleep, with the noise that came from Sibylla's rooms. “What does _maman_ usually do before bed? Does she tell you stories?”

“But I don’t want to sleep just yet,” he said. “Do you want to stay a bit with me? I have so many toys, I have to show you what Tiberias had gotten me from his trip to Tripoli…” The young prince dropped Aspasia’s hand and ran to a chest. When he opened them, with a proud smile on his face, he showed the young woman a variety of toys and figures. The latter pretended to be impressed and excited to see them. This only fueled him to explain to her in greater detail where he got each of them. He was also very careful with them and asked her to handle the toys with great attention and care as well. “My favourite ones are with the knights,” he placed figurines in a row on the edge of his bed. Aspasia noted that the majority of them represented knights in armour or on a horse.

_Little boys are so predictable_ , she thought, _of course, he would like knights_.

“Have you ever seen a war, Baldwin?” Aspasia asked him curiously. Of course, he hasn't - which is why he thought war was great.

“No,” he answered straight away, “but Tiberias and Balian count me stories all the time. And what about you?”

Aspasia took a minute to think. “I … have not, but I’ve been in many fights before.” She stood up and began placing his toys back into the chest. The little prince helped her clean the mess he had made and when they were done, he allowed Aspasia to put him in his bed. She helped him take off his slippers and pulled the covers over him. Baldwin waited for her to begin her story. "Give me a moment to think of a fun story..." When she found a fun story to tell him, another one that had to do with pirates, she snapped her fingers. “Yes, I have one! If I tell you, you have to promise me to sleep right after that. Do we have a deal?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have given it a bit of thought, regarding what animal would best represent Aspasia. It has not been mentioned previously in the story but her favourite animals are horses because she sees them as powerful animals and most importantly, free.  
> In reality, she is something closer to a hyena (please don't laugh, but it's true!) as she is rather aggressive and vicious, she barks a lot but is somewhat powerful, although not the most powerful out there.  
> There is this connotation with hyenas, they often hang out around other more powerful species (lions for instance) and eat what meat is left rather than hunt for themselves. This is not far from Aspasia's reality: being close to people more powerful than her (Her father, Akakios, then Phillip, then Tiberias, Sybilla and Balian...) and only getting what is left.


	14. The King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, our protagonist met the king.

The next day, Aspasia was woken up by a pair of arms shaking her softly. As she opened her eyes slowly, adjusting to the brightness, she recognized Sybilla standing above her. The princess was wearing her nighttime clothes, hair untied and a small smile on her lips. Baldwin was sleeping peacefully in his bed, tangled in the sheets

“I see you had more fun with my son than with women of your age,” Sibylla chuckled, “glad to see you two are getting along.”

Aspasia was reminded of the previous night. The two of them ended up telling stories to each other, re-enacting scenes with the figurines. Aspasia had tried to leave Baldwin to sleep but the little prince begged her to continue her tales about fighting pirates and protecting villagers. At some point, Aspasia had taken a wooden sword from the chest and pretended to fight an invisible enemy. The young Baldwin, so amused at her acting skills, cheered her for more and Aspasia began doing jumps, climbing on furniture and doing gymnastics to make the story funnier. At some point, the two of them fell asleep amid their newly made mess.

Sybilla had woken Aspasia up for their Greek lesson. “How do you do that? Be awake and fresh after last night’s party.” Asked Aspasia. She could only assume Sybilla was used at drinking and could hold her alcohol.

“If I told you, it would no longer be a secret.” Then, Sybilla motioned Aspasia to follow her. The latter silently stood up, left the prince’s room, and closed the doors behind her. “Tiberias is at his office, I had to tell you. Make sure you change your clothes, however.” With that, Aspasia ran to her room to get ready. Once she was ready, she headed to Tiberias’ office, and for the first time since she met him, he was sitting at his desk alone, without any guests.

The man looked up at her and set his stylus on the table. It appeared he had already been told of her visit by someone. Aspasia closed the door behind her and sat on one of the chairs. “I have news regarding Phillip and Sister Bertha. I left Jerusalem yesterday to check if any ship had left for Florence and it seemed there was no nun on board. On my way back, I took a different path and found Sister Bertha’s body left in the desert.”

Tiberias sighed, it was a mixture of curiosity and distress. He laid back on his seat and put his hands on the armrests. Aspasia paused a bit, noticing how unsettled he was. She then began describing what she had seen: the mutilations on her body, the state of her hair, as if someone had dragged her by it, the stage of decay and the remote location.

“I went to bury her and made a cross with what materials I could find. The Sun had already accelerated the decaying process, I couldn’t leave her out any longer. And yes, before you ask, I inspected her body and found that she had not been carrying any of her belongings. Either she had been taken by force there or she had run away and did not bother to gather her things. I assume that, if she knew she would be leaving for good, she would have packed her clothes and some money. Perhaps she left there, thinking she would get back in the evening - ”

“- Stop, stop, stop,” hushed Tiberias, “calm down, Aspasia.”

She put her elbows on her knees and massaged her scalp. Tiberias stood up and sat on another chair to face Aspasia. Sensing that the woman was about to cry, he put his hand on her shoulder to reassure her. “You did good, Aspasia, I am also really sorry about the end she had to meet.” This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It was as if he had confirmed what she was feeling, put her emotions into words, and this made her sob uncontrollably. Tiberias pulled his chair closer to hers and rubbed her back soothingly. He had not met Sister Bertha but he understood why Aspasia felt guilty for her death.

“You are not responsible for what had happened to her.”

“I know…” she spoke between two sobs. She took a deep breath and attempted to wipe her tears with her sleeves when Tiberias handed her a handkerchief. She accepted it and instead used it to pat her nose, something that grossed Tiberias out a bit. It did not matter, for she intended to keep the handkerchief to herself. She then proceeded: “I just think that all of this could have been avoided, and she could have been saved. I have no idea why I got entangled in this story, in all honesty, I really am not someone special and I was to no use to anyone, not even Phillip, not even you,”

“We cannot blame ourselves for what had happened, Aspasia,” reasoned Tiberias, “we can only keep going and uncover the truth. Trust me when I say that we’ve all made mistakes in the past and there is no stopping from our tracks. Going back is impossible. The only way is ahead of us.” The man stood up and tugged on Aspasia’s shoulder, then indicated her to follow him. She sensed that he was not apt to console her, or maybe he did not have the time to do that, so she forced herself to stop tearing up and followed him, using the handkerchief to mask her face whenever they passed someone. Tiberias led her through several hallways until they arrived on the other side of the castle. Aspasia cleared her throat and asked: “where are you taking me?”

“I don’t think this matter can wait any longer. Knowing that it puts people’s lives in peril, we have to address this issue and consult with the King.”

Aspasia stopped abruptly from her tracks and pulled Tiberias by the cloak. The man turned around to face her and pulled the fabric of his cloak back from her, a bit annoyed. “You’re taking me to see _the King_?”

“Yes, it is what I said.”

She looked alarmed, something Tiberias noticed but was confused about. “I can’t go,” protested Aspasia.

“Why not?”

“Why not?? Look at me. I have not dressed appropriately, and I’ve been crying, in case you had not noticed. I am not presentable this way.”

Tiberias raised an eyebrow. “You have shown up at my office and you did not seem to mind.”

Aspasia scoffed. “I don’t hold you to _the same importance_ as the King, Tiberias, you know that.”

His shoulders dropped. He should have been used to getting free insults, it was not unusual of her. “I fail to understand why you are suddenly nervous to meet His Royal Highness. You have met Sybilla, have you not? How is that any different?”

She could never admit to him that she was embarrassed by her actions so far: having insulted the princess, attempted to murder Tiberias and fought with Balian. She had been very unladylike in many ways, impolite and offensive on other occasions, stole the King’s horse and tested the limits of the people around her. She had done many things she was not proud of and facing the King would only bring more shame to her, for she could not justify her actions. “Do you need me to be there?” asked Aspasia, as a last resort to escape.

“You know the answer to that.” His severe tone only made her keep her head low. He almost dragged her across the hallway into a tower she had never visited before. On their way there, they came across Sybilla, who seemed surprised to see the two of them on that part of the castle.

“Are you here to see my brother?” she guessed.

“Is he in the mood to receive guests? And bad news?” sighed Tiberias. He sent Aspasia a glance, which Sybilla caught. Aspasia wanted to puff: as if anything remotely bad was always associated with her.

“He is in his rooms,” answered Sybilla, “as usual.”

“In this case, this is where we will be heading,” nodded Tiberias, “this will not take long.” Tiberias put his hand on Aspasia’s back and motioned her to walk ahead.

Sybilla followed the two of them and began speaking to Tiberias: “what is this all about?”

“Sister Bertha, the nun who gave Aspasia a hint on where to search for Phillip’s hideout, has been found dead outside of Jerusalem.”

Sybilla frowned. “Would it be wise to consult with my brother? Don’t think that I am trying to hide important matters from him – it’s just that I would rather not put any more stress on him. He had already been feeling a bit down lately.”

“It is best he knows,” affirmed Tiberias. His word was final. Sybilla sighed and decided to walk with them. There was a moment of silence until Tiberias looked at the princess. The princess looked back at him and smiled politely. Tiberias asked her: “how was the party last night? Are you not feeling sick? I heard there was a lot of wine at your disposal.”

Sybilla chuckled. “My head hurts but nothing more. I am a responsible adult, Tiberias, but thank you for your worry.”

The rest of their walk happened in silence. It was not the uncomfortable kind for they had soon reached an immense wooden door. For a palace lived by a king of Frank ancestry, every detail was of Middle Eastern inspiration. Mosaics covered the walls and voluptuous, exotic plants were strategically placed at equal intervals. This was perhaps Aspasia’s favourite side of the castle, followed by Sybilla’s garden. There was something about this place that made Aspasia like it more than the garden: the quiet, the tranquillity, the peace. The garden had always been full of life and activity, people constantly passing it and servants taking care of the plants and flowers.

Aspasia stopped in her tracks in front of the doors and looked around, a bit uncertain about what to do next. Sybilla, next to her, moved past them to get to the door. She gestured them to wait for her as she knocked on the door and walked inside the room first. She opened the door just enough to squeeze in and disappeared inside. Several minutes later, footsteps on the other side of the door came in their direction. The princess opened the door for them and welcomed them inside.

What Aspasia believed to be a room was actually an apartment, composed of many rooms that did not serve a particular purpose. Many plants decorated the space and had been strategically placed around entrances and windows. Expensive hand-carved furniture had been chosen, worthy of a king. Judging from the items of decorations, such as maps, models of the city, and books, it was clear that someone who loved the arts and the sciences lived here. Unlike the type of decoration that Aspasia preferred – minimal, clear and spacious – this place was the complete opposite, with complicated designs and an overabundance of textures. Large windows from both sides gave a beautiful view of the inside of the palace and toward the city. Throughout the day, light would come shining in and illuminating the whole apartment. Although it looked full of life, it was awfully quiet.

A hand shoved her deeper inside. An invisible force had been keeping her from venturing further. She bit her lower lip, not certain what she was going to anticipate. People have told her the King was fatally ill, and she knew his disease tended to disfigure the individual who suffered from it. She was not afraid of what she was about to see, but rather by the way she was going to react.

“Brother,” called Sybilla. She walked past Aspasia and Tiberias. If Sybilla had not pointed it out, Aspasia would have never noticed the figure standing at a desk like a statue. It was the same man she saw speaking to Tiberias when the Templar knights were executed in the piazza, when she was perched on a rooftop. The same man, dressed in the same robes, head to toe, with covers on his head the same way nuns wore a headscarf.

The man seemed to have been working on something, but he had tucked away all pieces of parchment and letters to clear his desk. He turned on the side, a bandaged hand on his armrest to help him move his body. What hit Aspasia was the state of his hand: entirely bandaged, somehow bony and crippled. He looked almost like a bird – like an owl, and when he turned his head to face them, she was met by a masked face of silvery metal.

“Welcome…" there was a short pause as if he was trying to draw in more breath. His eyes glistened a bit as they set on Aspasia. "Sybilla has not told me I would be welcoming a guest…”


	15. Memories of Macedonia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a flashback from Aspasia's past. It was at the beginning when she joined the Order, her father being the Grandmaster of the Macedonian Rite of the Templar Order.

The first months after the death of her mother was vague but she remembered clearly the emotions that she felt. The sorrow, the fear, the anger. Most of the time, it was anger because people had a tendency of pushing her to her limits. She had been taken in by her father, a man she has not met in her life. He looked a lot like her: they had the same chin and the same nose. The rest, she had gotten them from her mother. The man was also tall and massive. Muscles and sharp eyes that scared people into not messing with them. On top of that, his hair colour had faded and instead, he had grey hair at an early age.

Every time they would cross each other in the fortress, Aspasia would send him a death glare, almost blaming him for all of her misfortune. The man was stern and stoic but never mean to her. He simply lacked the qualities that would make him charismatic and empathic. Aspasia could not relate to him in any way.

She was given a few months to recuperate from her mother’s death and to adjust to her new life but progress with her was slow. Whenever she showed positive signs, taking one step forward, something would hit her and so would take two steps back. She was also insufferable to most. Rude. Irritable. Loud. All these flaws looked horrible on a beautiful child like her. She was also violent at times, although she did not know how to fight yet, and took a lot of space. People around her had begun to ask themselves if it was a good idea to include her in the Order, and if teaching her how to fight was not going to make matters worse.

The one in charge of her education was a young man named Akakios. His parents were Greek, but he had been separated from his family for years. He was a very talented fighter for his age and was also talented at teaching and explaining. His only flaw was that he was not patient. When he was told he had to teach the nine-year-old Aspasia techniques to defend herself, he was about to refuse until he was offered money to do so. For their first lesson, they found a spot in the Macedonian forest, on top of a hill, where the ground was flat and there was grass. He had brought with him two wooden sticks, one larger for him and one smaller for her. Without their knowledge, Aspasia’s father watched from the shadows.

“Listen here, _child_ ,” he said, fully aware that this would only annoy Aspasia more, “you are a being full of anger and resentment – something I have never witnessed before in my life – so, instead of making everyone’s life around you a living hell, maybe you should consider using this anger in a productive way? How about that?”

“Is this the day you teach me how to beat the crap out of you?” Aspasia sneered.

“No. This is the day I teach you how to save your sorry arse from when I beat the crap about of _you_.”

He struck right and she blocked his hit. She did it with weakness in her arm, and her body was not stabilized enough, but for a first try, it was good.”

“Have you ever fought in the past? Defended yourself? This is nothing like you’ve ever seen before. The Order is very strict, and they need top fighters who can take on any enemy. This is why we must start your training now. The younger you begin, the more time you have to perfect your skills. After that, you will be sent on missions and you will fight for the Order.”

Aspasia puffed. “I don’t even know what this Order is about. You speak like a cultist if I did not know any better.”

“I speak the truth,” Akakios sounded more and more annoyed by her, “and you should take this seriously. Your father counts on me to put some sense into you – and that is an impossible task if you ask me, but I will take it as a challenge.”

He then hit left. Aspasia used the other end of her stick to block his hit. Akakios looked almost proud of her. Then, she turned her whole body on her heels and used the stick to aim for his head. It hit him in the hear, making him bleed a little. Losing his balance, the young man fell on his knee and looked at Aspasia with anger in his eyes. He then proceeded to lift his own stick and knock her on the head. The stick made a cracking noise, breaking in two as it hit her back instead.

←→

Aspasia was back at camp, drenched in sweat. She had dropped all of her items at the feet of her father, who was sitting at a table under a tent. The man looked down at the training equipment, then up at Aspasia. There was nothing unusual about Aspasia’s lack of containment and her attitude that brought on her negative attention.

“This was one good opportunity for Akakios to use me as a punching bag, and you let him!” she snapped angrily.

Her father dropped his stylus on the table. “Training at the beginning is always difficult. I expect you to have learned something from this lesson.”

Aspasia pulled up her sleeves and lifted the bottom of her pants to show him all the marks that Akakios had left on her body. “There are more of those on my back, you can imagine how much it hurts.” Her father nodded his head as a way to dismiss her. He picked up the stylus once again and went back to work. The conversation was over, and Aspasia should have taken his silence as a cue to leave. She pulled up a stool and sat in front of her father. “I want to go see mother.”

The man looked up at the girl, then back at the letter he was writing. “You know you can’t do that.”

There was a knot in her chest that seemed to tighten. She gulped silently, and proceeded: “yes I can, the city is not far from here.”

“You know perfectly well what I mean.”

Aspasia hit the table with her hands, making all the items jump in the process. Her father would have said something, but he tried to maintain his calm in face of her reckless behaviour.

“Aspasia.”

“ _Father,_ ” she mocked him.

“I said no, and that is my final word.”

Aspasia pulled his items away from him and kept them at a distance out of reach. She was desperate to get his attention on this matter. “You can not forbid me to see my own mother. Or to go back home. I do not want to be here, as a matter of fact.”

The man stood up suddenly, making Aspasia almost drop to her knees in fear. He grabbed her by the wrist, snatched his letters back but did not let her go just yet. Her whole body trembled under his severe gaze. He had always been scary, and to everyone, but Aspasia was both stupid and gutsy and so she permitted herself to act as if she was free of consequences. The more she thought about it, the more she realized her attitude had never gotten her anything in life.

“I suggest you behave when your superiors give you orders. I will repeat what I said, and this is the last time I will do so: you cannot leave. You know very well that you are under my supervision now and you are lucky I am your father, otherwise I would have not hesitated to punish you for the way you speak to me and treat the others.”

He dropped her instantly. Aspasia fell butt first on the ground. She was about to get up when her father kicked her on the tight, provoking her to fall on the ground once again.

“If mom is dead, it is because of you,” she spat at him.

She did not think too much before saying this. She rarely thought before speaking, in general. The next thing she saw was her father’s elbow coming her way. It hit her on top of her head, hard enough to blurry her vision. She felt the pain course through her head, then the upper part of her body, and she dropped on the ground, feeling weak.

From this point onward, their relationship had been permanently damaged. Aspasia never once lost an opportunity to remind him how much she despised him and what he stood for.


	16. Chess Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia tells Tiberias about the corpse of Sister Bertha she found, left in the desert. The latter wants to share everything with the King, and Aspasia finally meets Baldwin IV of Jerusalem.

“I heard you have been causing my guards trouble.” There was a pause from the King's part as if he waited for a reaction from his guest, but since there was none, he followed with a chuckle. “Please, take a seat.” There was something about his voice that contrasted with the meaning of his message. The king did not seem angry with Aspasia, nor bothered. Quite the contrary, he showed himself amused by the situation, even. When he was supposed to be bothered by her antics, he seemed in fact quite happy to finally meet Aspasia.

The young woman looked behind her shoulder at the princess who was standing still like a statue. There was a playful smile on her lips, and she folded her arms across her chest, then leaning against a column, to be more comfortable. Realizing she could not escape this time, Aspasia finally sat on the seat the king had shown to her. The memory of insulting him when in prison resurfaced, and this only made her cheeks turn even redder. She remembered what she had told the guards about the king who was dying and feared that word may have gotten to him.

“I am sorry for this unannounced visit, my King,” bowed Tiberias, “we have a very important issue at hand which needs to be discussed. I’m afraid it’s a matter of urgency.”

The king adjusted in his seat to be more comfortable and straightened his back. He looked a bit on the edge, Aspasia could not tell if he was tired of dealing with such issues or feared something bad was going to be announced to him. Tiberias took a seat next to Aspasia and while Sybilla remained standing behind, the Count of Tripoli explained the whole situation to the king.

When he told her about Aspasia being hired to assassinate him, the king’s eyes moved onto the girl, almost analyzing her. In that dress, she looked quite frail and tired – not a threat. Aspasia became vividly aware of the state of her clothes and how little care she put into doing her hair in the morning. The moment the king looked away, there was a sense of relief. She put her hands on her knees, nervously playing with the fabric of her dress, and directed her attention onto Tiberias.

“And she has found a correspondence between Phillip and someone else,” Tiberias said. He took out of a pocket from his shirt two papers that had been folded and placed them on the table for the king to open them. The king extended one hand and used his moving fingers to unfold them while the other hand kept the paper straight, on the table. His eyes moved along the lines and when he was finished, he folded the letters back.

“What has happened of this man named Phillip?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“He was taken to prison and interrogated. He died by ingesting a capsule with poison he had kept hidden. Did not mutter a single word about his plan. This frustrates us. Everything we know is from Aspasia, who was also limited in her knowledge.”

“That … is odd,” spoke the king, “he may have been a professional in what he was doing, aware he would be caught and had to die if he did not want to divulge the truth. What has happened to him? Has he been buried?”

“Yes, with the help of Balian. We inspected his body but found nothing. He was buried soon after, otherwise, the body would have smelled. Aspasia had been given a hint by a nun who worked at the Hospital on where to find his hideout. She went missing later on, and her body had been left in the desert, away from the main roads. We have some speculations that she might have been dragged there against her own accord, or maybe she had left Jerusalem with the intentions of returning, for she was found without her belongings.”

“This is all too gruesome,” muttered Sybilla from behind, disgust visible in her face. She turned her back to the others and played with objects that had been placed on another table.

“You may leave, sister,” the king replied kindly, “I understand that the images are too violent.”

“If you do not require my presence, I think I might do just that.” Sybilla bowed her head and turned on her heels and walked away, seeing that they did not need her presence there. Aspasia would have almost begged her to stay but no words came out of her mouth. She focused her attention back on the king. Her eyes were fixated on his beautiful mask, detailed and smooth, something she could not help herself to do. She noticed that the man who had made it incorporated facial features – thin and long eyebrows, a small moustache and beard.

Realizing that she looked too long than she should have at his face, Aspasia forced herself to look down and avoid all eye contact.

“Is my guest perhaps mute? I have not heard you chirp a single word since you came here.” There was a chuckle from his part. It sounded like talking was also a difficult task for him because he spoke slowly and articulated. He spoke as softly and as slowly as he moved.

“Forgive me,” mumbled Aspasia, “I do not mean to sound rude. I have no idea how I am supposed to behave around a king.”

“Please, don’t be so tense. I am happy to finally meet you. I have heard you saved Tiberias’ life and my own. He is a very important man to me; he helps me manage the kingdom where I cannot interfere. I wanted to thank you for what you have done.”

“I … haven’t done much, except bring about trouble.”

“You are a very good friend of Balian’s and of Sybilla’s. I hope you could also be a friend of mine. From what Tiberias had just revealed to me, you are skilled in combat and you can master almost any weapon. Am I right, Tiberias? I wish to offer you protection here, in the castle, and hopefully, one day, you will return me the favour when I will not be capable of protecting myself anymore. Because, if I am, to be honest, Aspasia, I have a feeling you are capable of doing great things. Especially if that is what you wish to do.”

Aspasia looked down, unable to keep looking at him directly. It was already too much for her, acknowledging her, as a commoner, and also praising her and her abilities. at his body. The majority of his limbs have not moved at all – he did not shift his legs and moved his arms. His knees touched together, and his body was inclined in her direction, shoulders slightly slouched and his head tilted a bit on the side.

“It would be an honour,” she smiled, a bit embarrassed by the fact that his comment made her blush. “I have to be honest; my presence here could only bring about more trouble. There are … people who do not like me very much.”

Tiberias, who Aspasia forgot was here, relaxed in his seat. He seemed almost pleased at seeing the young woman behave nicely in front of the monarch. “I am sure that under your violent and reckless façade, people may see how lovely you can be,” he said, openly mocking her. Aspasia sent him a severe look, barely restraining herself from jumping at his neck. The king, on the other hand, seemed amused by their interactions.

“So, I assume there is no way for us to find out who are Phillip’s connections until one of them does a move,” concluded the King, “I will, therefore, increase the security around the perimeter of the castle. I will eventually set guards on strategic posts around the city to increase protection.”

“Perhaps it would be wise to avoid public areas as well, your Highness,” suggested Tiberias. “especially without a guard by your side. Anyone could attack out, in the city. Balian is aware of the situation and he is working with me to help with these tasks. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Of course, I won’t,” answered the king. He sighed and attempted to stand up, but his arms barely supported his own weight. Tiberias instantly jumped at his side and helped him in his action. Aspasia wondered what the King intended to do. “Please, come free to come to visit me, Aspasia, if you ever wish to” the king spoke to the young woman directly this time, “it gets lonely here when even my own sister avoids me.”

“Yes, of course,” answered Aspasia. She did not know what exactly it meant. When she gave it more thought, it did sound like Sybilla was quick to leave the room earlier.

She watched Tiberias follow the King as he attempted to move on one of the couches, and Aspasia was not sure what to do: follow them or leave as well. If she were to leave, the King would think that she too was impatient of going. It must have been horrible, to leave with such a disease that pushed people to get away. She had not seen his face, nor his body, but she felt his pain.

“Thank you for your help, Tiberias,” the king said as he sat on a couch and adjusted a table with a chess game on it. He placed the pieces on their rightful spot and motioned to the empty chair in front of it. “Would you care for a game? Or I suppose you are busy with the affairs of Tripoli.”

“Perhaps we could leave that for another time,” Tiberias said. He then turned to face Aspasia and suggested: “maybe the lady here would like to play a game of chess in my place?”

The King seemed to like the idea of playing a game with his guest. “Do you play chess?” he showed her the board with wooden pieces.

She shook her head, a bit intimidated by the fact that she was talking to the most powerful man in the country. A bit unsure, she said: “I don’t know the rules.”

“That is alright,” answered the king, “we all have to start somewhere. It is my favourite game now. It used to be sword fighting but over time, I have had difficulty with this arm,” he lifted an arm up, which was covered in bandages and fabric, “so I can no longer do that. I can teach you how to play, the rules are simple.”

Eyes cast down on his moving hand, floating above the board game as he explained to her what each piece could and could not do, she looked up for a brief second and their eyes met for a split second. Almost instantly, both of them looked back to the board. Aspasia rubbed the back of her neck, feeling suddenly shy. The king was excellent at reading situations, from what she could tell.

At some point, Tiberias had left the King’s apartment in silence, leaving the two characters at their game of chess. After several attempts where the King would give Aspasia tips on what to do, he finally took her on a real match where he kept everything to himself. As he paused to think of his next move, Aspasia tried to catch a glimpse of his true features very subtly. Besides his eyes and the area around them, nothing showed.

“Your turn,” he said, pulling her out of her daydream. She blinked twice and thought about her next move. So far, he had been showing some mercy, allowing her to save some of her own pawns when he could have easily eliminated them. Aspasia could have guessed that he had spent days alone, playing by himself at this game. She would have talked to Sybilla about leaving him alone and avoiding her responsibilities, but that was not something she should get involved in.

How often did the king leave the castle? And to what extent did he have power over his kingdom, in the state that he is in? Why did he wear this white and silver robe? To protect himself from the Sun? To protect others from the contagion of the disease? Or to hide his own physical appearance? It was too soon to ask all these questions, but Aspasia was dying to.

“How have the people in the castle treated you since your arrival?” asked the King.

Was it curiosity or did he simply want to test her out? She bit her lower lip and thought of a polite answer. ‘Fairly’ was what she could come up. She had been rude to some, which justified their reaction to her. She did not want to evoke the trip to the prison cell one more time. Luckily, the king accepted her answer and did not insist any further.

“I am asking because lately, we have been dealing with certain political matters that had been troublesome, to say the least. You are aware of the Muslim countries surrounding this kingdom: all are allied under one sultan, and that is Saladin. With treaties and borders that must be respected, I have had cases where my knights have been deliberately stirring up trouble.”

“Your knights?”

The king coughed. “Templar knights,” he rectified, “and to hear that some people have been plotting my death and Tiberias’… I cannot help but think all of this may be linked somehow.”

“Are you perhaps referring to the public execution that took place a few days ago?” Aspasia asked.

The king paused and nodded a little. “Yes, that among other public executions that took place. We cannot afford to sacrifice more knights when the enemy is at our door. If only Guy would manage them properly… They came here for gold, completely oblivious to the threat we are facing.”

It was true that she too came to Jerusalem with the hopes of making money. She had not made a lot of money but she had found herself a beautiful abode, something she could only dream of, as a child, living almost like the princess herself. People to serve her, fancy silk dresses at her disposal.

“It is true that I have seen knights who seem quite reckless and believe they have any form of authority over others, but from my knowledge, there is nothing you have done that would anger someone to this extent.” The image of the Templar knight in that empty office with the noblewoman came to mind. If more knights behaved like him, the king’s fears were justified. She wanted to tell him what she had seen, but she did not know their names, nor their role, and could only describe them superficially. Nothing of this information was valuable to her. Then, if she were to rat them out, she could no longer use that information against them when she needed it the most.

The king looked at Aspasia, head slightly tilted. “It looks like you wish to say something. No? Well, it must have been an impression. In any case, when you are in a position like mine, you are bound to attract such trouble. You cannot expect to be liked by everyone.”

Aspasia chuckled. The king seemed surprised by her finding him amusing. “Believe me, I have had my fair share of people who came after me,” she justified.


	17. Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After meeting with the King, Aspasia is depressed. She and Sibylla have a talk.

Aspasia had left the King’s apartments with a sullen look, which did not escape Sibylla. Most people hid well their discomfort, when coming face to face with the King, despite his illness worrying and disgusting them. Aspasia had difficulty hiding her emotions - not just in that moment, but in general. It became clear to Sibylla that Aspasia was not scared of leprosy, but rather depressed to see her brother in these circumstances. Sibylla decided to walk Aspasia back to her room, hoping to cheer her up, but most importantly to have the opportunity to talk with her. She pitied the young woman, for she seemed to cast upon herself the worse discoveries. “Please don’t wear this look anymore,” Sibylla said, almost exasperated, “you know I hate seeing you like this. You are typically much happier than that.”

Aspasia instantly felt guilty. Was Sibylla not use at “I did not mean to offend you. I’m just … thinking about your brother’s hardships.”

“This is only the surface of his problems,” admitted Sibylla, “life has been tough on him since he was a young boy. It has been like that for the whole family, to tell you the truth.”

“And have you done anything to alleviate his pain?” asked Aspasia. Before she could process what she had said, the words were out of her mouth: Sibylla could have taken it as a personal attack. Seeing Sibylla party wildly last night, and having to put little Baldwin to bed, she could have guessed the answer on her own. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to offend you.”

Sibylla raised one hand in the air and stopped her mid-sentence. “It is alright. Quite frankly, I did not do much, and I cannot do much more. Everything that is related to this kingdom is beyond me."

“I am sure that is not the case. You are the most powerful woman I have ever come across.”

Sibylla looked a bit embarrassed. “My role is to delegate the power to someone else, whether that is my son or my husband.” 

_Husband_? Questions were raised. Aspasia had no clue Sibylla was a married woman. Could it have been Balian? They seemed to spend a lot of time together and got along very well. Aspasia could not help herself but think that their relationship was purely physical, but she was certain that she did not certain things about their couple. She thought of Sibylla's son, also named Baldwin; blond hair and clear eyes, all features that had nothing to do with Sibylla and Balian. Balian was not the father of the prince, but could he be the step-father?“I didn’t know you had a husband,” blurted out Aspasia.

Sibylla stopped from her tracks, then giggled. “I have not told you about him, because I am not very fond of him. No one really is.”

“And who might that be?”

Sibylla had her head hanging low. Earlier, it was Aspasia who was sulking, but now it was the princess, as the attention was brought onto her good-for-nothing husband. "His name is Guy de Lusignan, and he came from France with knights. My brother and I despise him but he is a powerful force of this kingdom, and therefore he is indispensable.”

“More powerful than Balian and his men?"

“Yes," she nodded. "He is part of the Templar Order, and therefore, he has a lot of influence. Whether we like it or not.”

Aspasia’s face turned ghostly pale. She felt all the blood drain from her face and her fingers tremble. Sibylla must have noticed it too but did not comment.

Of course, Sibylla had a connection to the Templar knights, one way or another. Soon enough, she will learn about Aspasia and her circumstances. This would lead to disastrous results, and potentially putting people in danger. Aspasia had hoped that the royal family lived in its own little bubble. A hermetic world. Aspasia believed at first that she would be the exception to the rule, of an outsider walking in. She quickly learned that her past was never too far behind.

She laughed nervously and shifted her weight from one leg onto the other. “Wow, these knights are really special, if I may say… The day of your party, I swear I saw one of them with a woman in one of the offices, not far from Tiberias’. I am not lying when I say they were about to fornicate…”

Sibylla became livid for a moment. “W-what do you mean?? Who??”

Aspasia was just glad to turn the attention away from her own person, and to other people. “Well, I mean what I said. I believe they do not always honour their code, about obedience, poverty and chastity. Some of them indulge in … you know… Please don’t make me say it, it is embarrassing.”

“Who were they?”

“I do not know their names, but the woman was one of the guests at your party.”

“Aspasia, describe her to me.”

Aspasia scratched the back of her neck. She did not like where this was heading. “What will do you to her, if I tell you?”

Sibylla shrugged. “Not much I can do, but I would like to know.”

“You seem to know a lot yourself, more than you lead on.”

Sibylla laughed. “Oh, please. I have lived in this castle for years, I know who is doing what, I know their habits and their secrets. I just need you to confirm my suspicions.”

Aspasia had no choice, and so she described the woman as best as she could. She told Sibylla of the clothes, the facial features, the hair colour, and Sibylla seemed to know who Aspasia was talking about. “Well, now I know who is a back-stabber.”

“What are you going to do with this information? Confront her?”

Sibylla shook her head. “I cannot do that, it would be too aggressive of an approach. I need to let my enemies die a slow death. She will not be having any favours from me in the future.”

Aspasia gulped. “Why does it matter that she was having relations with a knight. He is the one who made the vow of chastity, so he should be the one to be punished first.”

“The man who was with her is most likely my very husband. You know, the one I called a good-for-nothing.”

“B-but-“ Aspasia was at a loss of words. She played that argument in her head countless of times. If that man was her husband, and if Sibylla was having a relationship with Balian, she too was committing the same crime. Having met Guy de Lusignan, Aspasia was not surprised Sibylla would cheat with a man like Balian. No one could stand him. What was surprising was that Balian was alright with this, and Aspasia realized for the first time that the royal family lived in a different world, with different rules. Aspasia had never had a romantic connection with anyone but what was clear was that in her world, such things would not have been permitted.

“I know what you are thinking," said Sibylla. "That I break my own rules and I punish those who break them. I cannot punish Guy because it would make me a hypocrite. I can, however, punish the woman who is sneaking behind my back and goes for my husband. I do not need such people in my life, and I have no problem cutting their throat - metaphorically speaking, of course - if that is necessary." That sounded almost like a warning to Aspasia: do not cross me or else you will meet the same fate. "Guy tends to be manipulative and aggressive, but do not let that fool you,” said Sibylla, “imagine that every single person here is against him, including the Patriarch."

“I … will do my best to be sweet to him," Aspasia referred to the Patriarch. It was a man sent by the Vatican to Jerusalem, and he held incredible power over the state. She did not wish to cause Sibylla nor the King trouble by angering him.

Sibylle chuckled. “You will never get rid of your ways, Aspasia. That is what makes you charming. I believe my brother is going to find you likeable because you have not barked at him. Too bad you were not like this with Tiberias.”

Aspasia found that comment odd and amusing: “it is not that I lack manners, you know me, Sibylla. I just choose to not use them.”

At that moment, the gates opened and several men on horses arrived in the gardens. One of them was Balian, dressed in all black. Sibylla smiled and approached him. She patted the horse as he climbed down. “Princess, I hope I did not take too long to arrive. I came as fast as I could.” The two of them looked into each other’s eyes with great love and infatuation. It seemed that since Sibylla had confirmed their relationship, Aspasia could see it clearly. She began feeling like she was not meant to witness it and found that the men who had accompanied Balian were also pretending to be busy. “The Patriarch will be arriving tomorrow morning, if the ship docks in time,” stated Balian.

“We were just talking about him,” admitted Sibylla, “I would like you to join us tomorrow on your hunting trip because I need someone to be there, other than Tiberias.”

“Of course,” smiled back Balian. The two lovers seemed to notice Aspasia, who had been standing there awkwardly, and Balian said, “will you be there, as well?”

Aspasia thought about it for a second. “Do I have to?”

“Not necessarily.”

“I am just worried that there will be no one left to protect Baldwin or the King if anyone were to attack while you are gone,” admitted Aspasia.

“My son will be with his tutor for the whole day. Perhaps I can arrange for you to have some activities to do. I am not going to impose my brother onto you, it is not your job to take care of him."

“Are you not worried about his safety, Sibylla? Does he have guards to protect him?”

Sibylla smiled kindly. “I do not want you to look this depressed tomorrow night when we get back.”

“Well, I promise I will not if that is the condition.”

Sibylla’s smile grew bigger. “In that case, it is settled. Tomorrow, I will have your maids take you to see the King. Hopefully, he will keep you from investigating what you should not be." She turned around to face her lover. "Right, Balian?” Balian nodded.

Aspasia sighed. She wished the two of them a good night and removed herself. Heading back to her rooms, she thought about what had happened throughout the day. Her mind wandered to Guy and what he had said to her. He truly did not look like a smart man, and perhaps he was bluffing, but Aspasia wondered if he knew anything about the other branches of the Order. She told herself to be careful around him, for his own wife was not afraid to strike back at those who came after him.


	18. His Own Mortality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With most of the characters gone to meet with the Patriarch who just arrived from the Vatican, Aspasia remains at the palace to assist the King.

The next morning, Aspasia found herself standing awkwardly at the front door of the King’s apartments. Next to her stood an Arab servant, confused by her hesitation. She would have told him to give her a moment but they did not speak the same language, so the servant knocked on the door for her. As he did that, he watched the panic wash across her face but did not seem to care. Several seconds later, footsteps approached the door and another servant, dressed all in white, opened the door. He spoke in Arabic to the servant standing next to Aspasia, the latter nodded his head, and the door closed back.

Several minutes went by until the same servant came back to answer. He spoke to Aspasia, in Arabic, of course, and she took it as a permission to walk inside. As she stepped inside the familiar apartments, she found the King standing on one of the chairs, his back turned to her. His hands were lifted to his face, perhaps adjusting his mask, and then he turned to her. This day, he wore a different mask, one that was ornamented with little intricate designs. This one did not bore the features of a face. She did not know how to feel about this new mask, quite frankly she would have hoped to speak to something that bears the resemblance of a face. “Good morning, Aspasia, I am happy to see you,” the King said politely.

“Good morning, your Highness.”

This seemed awkward for the both of them. She was very sure she was breaking some sort of royal protocol by the way she addressed the King. It was something she deliberately did with Sybilla and Sybilla was more than happy to consider her a close friend, but the King was another matter. Aspasia looked around the King and watched the Servant pick up a tray with unknown items on it and walk away, back turned to them. She felt as if she had been interrupting something. She noted the bandages around his hands looked new, perhaps he had them freshly changed every morning. There was also a pleasant smell of flowers and balm, Aspasia assumed it was maybe part of his medication. The King did not say much to her the first minutes. He attempted to stand up and change seats, when the servant dressed in white came back to his aid, but the King refused. He told the servant something in Arabic and the man left.

“Please, don’t just stand there. Take a seat anywhere you would like. “

Aspasia followed him as he walked to his desk, and she sat opposite of him. He set on the table piles of letters and parchments, something she had also noticed on Tiberias’ table in the past. She watched his slow and steady movements, one hand more still than the other. She asked herself what possibly she could do to help him. Sybilla, Balian and Tiberias had headed to the port to welcome the Patriarch of Jerusalem and so his safety relied on her.

“That servant you just saw is no ordinary servant,” spoke the King as he searched for his ink. “He is a physician, and he worked for Saladin. There isn’t much hope for me to survive another decade, but at least he helps me in my most painful moments.” Aspasia nodded understandably. The King’s eyes looked up at her, as if he was giving her an opportunity to say something, and seeing she would remain mute, he looked back down at his papers. “I appreciate your presence here. This task is usually divided between Tiberias and I, but since he is gone for the day, I will have to take care of this myself. Were you expecting something more exciting?”

“Exciting? Not really,” Aspasia replied, “quite frankly, I had no idea what to expect coming here, I was open to do anything. What is this morning’s task, if I may ask?”

The King began spreading across his desk several papers in categories, “I am to write a letter to the kingdom of France, and I shall take care of cases that will be in court in the following weeks.”

“Is there any way I can assist you in your work?”

The King paused for a bit and thought of an answer. “I would not ask you help me in this task, normally, for it is something I have to personally take care of. I have so many cases to handle, as it appears … I could actually use an extra pair of hands, only for … Give me a moment…” He began to layout in front of them the letters. Aspasia approached him and looked down at the desk, various letters were written in the language of the kingdom. If she were asked to read them and make a report, it would take her an awful amount of time. Fortunately for her, the King did not ask her to do that, but instead to stamp them with wax after he had pass them to her and signed them. “I hope I was clear in the instructions,” he mumbled after demonstrating to her with one letter, “I am usually the one to do this by myself, and Tiberias typically is working on the trade matters on his end. Lord … there is no break for us…”

Amused by his flow of thoughts, Aspasia chuckled and sat down on the opposite end of his desk. To her surprise, she found the calm and silence enjoyable. She would stamp the letters and give them to the King, who would read them and sign them. Occasionally, the documents would be sorted in different piles and Aspasia would move these piles onto a different table to make room. The raspy and difficult breath of the king would rarely be followed by a cough or a sound of him clearing his throat. She offered him a drink at some point, but he was too busy in his work to even hear her.

After several hours, a bit tired of doing the same sequence of movements, Aspasia looked at the King to see if he too felt exhausted. He noticed her eyes on him, and he set down his stylus and stretched out his arms. Did his eyes hurt from doing so much work? They were so blue, a pigment she had never seen in anyone else, but the skin around his eyes, the sole area of skin she could see, looked very tired and pale. Did the disease affect his sight as well? Perhaps he did, but he did not show it. “I will gladly have a drink now,” he interrupted her train of thought, “if that offer still stands.”

“Yes, of course.”

She stood up and walked outside to find a servant. She spoke to the servant in Latin, and they seemed to have understood the meaning. Moments later, the same servant came back with a chalice with what seemed to be a cold beverage. He brought the tray to the desk and set the cups in front of the King and Aspasia. The man bowed and then walked out of the room. The King lifted the cup to his mouth and turned around, saying a quiet ‘excuse me’ as he showed her his back and lifted his mask.

In the most natural way possible, Aspasia took a sip and tried not to stare at the King. She did not know how to act in his presence, but it appeared that drinking in front of her did not bother him, so long she did not see his face. This only made Aspasia more curious.

He put the cup down and adjusted the mask back before facing Aspasia once again. She could have sworn he was smiling behind the mask, for his eyes sparkled for a second, and he said: “shall we continue? The faster we are done with it, the sooner we can leave.”

Leave? Where? No time to question, the King was already focusing his attention back to the parchments and Aspasia had to keep up. They did that for a few more hours, in complete silence. From time to time, she would worry about his breathing for it sounded difficult and painful. When they arrived at the last document, there was sigh of relief coming from the king, and he finished reading the letter and sighed it. “Is that all?” asked Aspasia.

He seemed amused by her question. “If I knew you enjoyed doing paperwork, I would have invited you earlier to assist me.” She laughed embarrassingly, unsure if she should take it as a joke or if she had to commit now. “I will have to meet with Tiberias, but that will not be possible today, to discuss about the cases. There is always something happening in this kingdom and as you can see, I rely very much on Tiberias’s assistance. Speaking of Tiberias, will you tell me about this tension between you two?”

Instantly, her face turned bright red. Aspasia wished she had been the one to wear a mask. “Things have been better than they used to be,” she admitted. There was a glimpse of hope in her eyes of changing the topic. Whether the King was or was not aware of the situation did not seem to matter. He understood that she was not willing to talk about it and so changed topics.

“In that case,” the King paused and looked around him pensively. There was a moment of silence where he seemed to do calculations in his mind, and he finally settled, looking a bit reassures, “those were the cases for today, I suppose the important matter had been taken care of…” And then, he called one of his servants. A man walked inside, the King instructed him with to do with the papers, and the servant carried the papers elsewhere, Aspasia guessed it would have been Tiberias’ office.

“And what are we to do next?” she asked the King.

“We have some free time on our hands – a rare thing to happen. What would you like to do, Aspasia?”

The sound of her name rolling on his lips made her feel funny. She tried to think of an answer, but nothing was suitable. He was a king, she was a commoner. He was sick, she was healthy. He had refined tastes and she liked physically demanding activities. She thought a bit about her own relationship with Sybilla, who was similar to her brother in many ways, and yet the two women managed to be good friends, despite their differences. Why was it harder with King Baldwin?

“Do you ever leave your rooms, during the day?”

“Sometimes, yes,” and then he elaborated, “although lately it has been more difficult for me to do so.”

“Perhaps you would benefit from going on a walk,” suggested Aspasia. “After having sat here during the whole morning, I too need to move my body.”

“Yes, perhaps it would be a good idea.”

Aspasia promised herself she would pay close attention to his needs. This only added more pressure to her. The two began strolling through the hallways, Aspasia following King Baldwin mindlessly. Something inside her made her worry that she was treating him like a breakable object, and perhaps that was not the case, and he was more capable than she thought. After all, he was slightly taller than her and capable of moving around, although slowly and groggily. She tried to figure out what kind of activities men of his age enjoyed doing but it seemed hard to imagine. The only men around the King’s age were Akakios and Balian. Akakios liked to bully others, and so Akakios was in no way a good representation of the typical man, while Balian was constantly busy with the affairs of the palace and of Ibelin. She thought about Balian and Sybilla and wondered if the King ever had a woman in his life. It seemed almost impossible, for his disease tended to push others away. There was no chance a woman would take an interest in him, despite the opportunity to gain power, fame or money, if it meant she was required to marry a leper and produce an heir. Even the King’s own sister was rarely caught keeping company to her own brother, perhaps she feared she would catch the disease herself and pass it on to her own son, the young Baldwin.

She noted the moments of long silence between them. It did not bother her, but perhaps was the King uncomfortable. Was it another form of etiquette she was breaking? The King noticed her moving her mouth, attempting to find something to say, and he spoke instead: “How do you find Jerusalem? I know you have not been here for very long.”

“The city is beautiful. I did not know much about this side of the world, I was living in a bubble, almost. People here are very industrious and I was treated kindly by the servants working in the castle.”

“I am glad to hear that.”

Silence set between the two, now awkward for Aspasia but comfortable for King Baldwin. She sent him a subtle glance, then looked down at her feet. The King walked at a slow and light pace. His hands behind his back, shoulder slightly slouched, giving him the allure of an owl. She noted that he wore a lot of white and pale colours, unlike Sybilla who was always in dark or flamboyant colours and loud jewelry.

“May I ask you a question?” Aspasia spoke.

“Of course,” answered the King.

“And I do not mean to sound rude or nosy… you had spoken earlier about writing a letter to France. I did not know this Kingdom had connections to the West. France is very far away and distant from Jerusalem.”

“You are probably wondering why I am writing to them and not to Constantinople instead,” the King deduced, “that is because my family has originated from France, my ancestors have traveled here for the conquest of the Holy Land, perhaps a hundred years ago. Constantinople may be nearer, but they would also want to exert control over this land, and I cannot allow this kingdom to depend on them.”

“What is the difference between them and us?” Aspasia asked.

“The religion,” Baldwin replied, “as simple as that.”

Aspasia was expecting another answer. Of course, it was religion. There were many Greeks in Constantinople, as well as Armenians, so Orthodoxy was predominant. The Kingdom of Jerusalem was varied more in terms of population, but the royal family and the aristocracy were very much still Catholics and supported the Vatican. It was easy to guess in which group Aspasia belonged, based on her physical appearance. The King did not press the issue – it was too political and perhaps it would bore to death the lady in his company.

By every servant they met on their way, they were greeted. The King led her to Sybilla’s gardens, where she and the princess usually held their lessons, and they stopped near a bench. Behind that bench, there was a tall exotic tree, Aspasia did not know what it was called, and the King sat there. He looked up at Aspasia and patted the place next to him, for her to sit too.

“I always loved Sybilla’s garden, but I can never find the time to come here myself to relax.”

Claiming it was Sybilla’s garden was perhaps an overstatement. Aspasia would bet a lot of drachmae that it was not her, but rather the servants’, who picked the plants, watered them and cut them in order to keep the garden beautiful. She had known Sybilla enough to know that the princess despised work that involved hands, dirt and heat.

“I do not think anyone has the time for leisure in this castle,” noted Aspasia, her thoughts going to Tiberias, Balian and other officials, then back to the servants who were constantly busy with work and duties, “well, except for children.” She could think of Sybilla’s son, Baldwin, and also to Isabella, whom she had met a long time ago.

“Have you met my nephew?” King Baldwin asked, his eyes squinting a bit. With a bit of practice, Aspasia could learn to read his emotions through his mask. His eyes looked as if they had suffered from his sickness as well – she was not sure to what extent he could see and could not see, but they conveyed enough emotion for Aspasia to read the situation.

“Yes, he is adorable,” Aspasia said with a smile, “I put him to bed one night and counted him a story about pirates. He seemed to have enjoyed it.”

“Pirates? That is new. He is usually interested in knights,” chuckled King Baldwin.

Aspasia shrugged her shoulders. Memories of little Baldwin’s laugh, how he was eager to help her tell the story and how his eyes opened wide when she did those acrobatics in his room, like a buffoon, to entertain him.

“His blond hair is very beautiful,” Aspasia noted, “my own mother was blonde like that.” And she began to wonder from who he could have had his blond hair. There was a lot she did not know about Sybilla, but Sybilla was brunette and her husband, Guy, also had dark hair. She did not know anything about Sybilla’s previous husband, but it was more likely little Baldwin resembled his late father. Or perhaps, little Baldwin had grandparents with blond hair and inherited that from them.

“Tell me a bit about your family,” coaxed the King. It sounded to Aspasia like he was tired of talking, more than he was genuinely interested in knowing. She had sensed before that he had difficulty drawing in a breath but also noticed that he preferred to listen than to talk.

She scratched the bridge of her nose and leaned back slightly on the bench. “I was raised by my mother until the age of nine when she died, and my father took care of me from that point onward. He had much trouble raising me because I was a problematic child, and he also had duties, as a knight, and so he could not be there for me all the time. I received an adequate education, very much focused on sword fighting and horse-riding, but I was also taught how to read and to write in my native language, in Greek, and very little Latin. As you may have noticed, I have a lot to do in order to improve my Latin.”

“You are doing wonderfully,” reassured her the King, “if you wish to speak to me in Greek, I am perfectly happy to do that, I learned Greek from scholars when I was younger – Sybilla did not, which is why she wants to learn it now.” There was almost a childish smile behind his mask as if it were a brother chuckling that his sister wanted to copy him. Aspasia was impressed, he seemed to have no shortage of skills. She mumbled something along the lines of ‘it does not matter to me’ and ‘I would like to practice my Latin.’

The two, as if on cue, had stood up from the bench and headed for the stables. Concern washed over Aspasia for the place was dirty with horse feces and straws of wheat, and his perfectly white robes would get ruined. The King did not seem to mind, and he walked carefully, lifting slightly the hem of his clothes to not touch the soil. She followed him, looking at what he looked at, almost curious to know what caught his attention.

Servants in the stables greeted them and indicated to the King something in Arabic. Aspasia began to wonder how many languages the King was fluent at. She heard him in Arabic, Latin. He had mentioned he was Frank earlier, and that he was taught Greek earlier in his childhood. There was so much about him that did not meet the eye, and Aspasia was curious to know more, she was not going to lie about this.

The King approached a familiar white horse with spots and lifted his hand to pet it gently. “Your adventures with Zephyr did not escape my ears,” he remarked, provoking Aspasia to blush.

“That’s a very well-behaved horse,” Aspasia said, “worthy of a King.”

“These creatures don’t live more than thirty years,” said the King, “I received it when I was a young boy, and it led me to battle when I first faced Saladin.”

Aspasia began to understand why this horse was so special. She had been a fool to simply take it to run her errands. If something happened to Zephyr, she would be held responsible. She looked at the King, his mask completely impenetrable. She wanted to guess his age; he must have been about as old as her.

“You seem young for a King, and yet I have this impression you have had this duty for years now,” commented Aspasia.

“My father died when was thirteen, and I was officially King at the age of fifteen when I was old enough to be considered a man.”

A man at the age of fifteen? When Aspasia was fifteen, she was still a child, doing anything she could do to anger Akakios and her father, then get beaten by Akakios who refused to suffer a defeat. At the age of fifteen, she would take unnecessary risks just to prove to Akakios that she was not someone he could just bully and get away with. She was lucky to not have been injured to the point she could not heal from it, because Akakios would have willingly put hurt her enough to prevent her from becoming a Templar.

“I keep hearing great things about Saladin,” admitted Aspasia, “is he really such a formidable opponent than others make him be?”

The King nodded his head. “He is different from the previous sultans that came before. He is formidable in the sense he excels at almost everything he does. The Arab kingdoms around us used to be separated but he united them under the same ruler, and now Jerusalem is surrounded by Syria and Egypt.”

“That is a problem,” admitted Aspasia.

“I was capable of negotiating peace with him, but as you can see, some of my men are loose cannons…”

It was obvious King Baldwin did not want to cite any names but if the rumours have reached his ears, they must have reached everyone. Aspasia had still many things to learn about the Kingdom but perhaps asking the King was not the best idea, for he could be more reserved regarding information. Perhaps if she spoke to Tiberias or Sybilla, they would be more open to talking to her.

“How often do you have the opportunity to ride your horse?” Aspasia asked the King.

The King looked at Zephyr, the horse welcomed silently the pats and rubs it received. “I used to ride horses when I was younger almost daily, but now I have to limit myself to battles, and perhaps occasionally so that I do not lose my skills. To be frank with you, I have been very busy lately with public affairs and relations with the neighbouring kingdoms, I do not have much time for leisure. Walking around the castle, talking to you, was a delight, Aspasia. I hope we can do this another time; I very much needed a break from working at an office. Should we head back? I was reminded that I have to write a letter to France, I almost forgot about it if you had not mentioned it.”

Aspasia nodded her head, slightly disappointed they could not stay and speak more. She began to grow more comfortable around him and he was an excellent listener and discussion partner. They headed slowly, at his rhythm, to his apartments, and Aspasia helped him settle down. As he began writing, she gave him a bit of space and did not speak, to allow him to think clearly. From where she was standing, she watched quietly. His figure slightly hovered over the paper, and shoulders inside, he looked very much like an owl. It was the second time she had that image in her head. The bird suited him well. Most kings liked powerful predators such as lions or hawks, but the King was more peaceful and wiser. The owl was a symbol of Athena, and he shared many traits with the goddess of wisdom and battle.

When he finished writing, the King read through it quickly and then handed it to Aspasia. “May I ask you for a favour? If you could stamp it as you did with the others and ask a servant to get it delivered? The servants will take care of the letter and it’s delivery…”

After giving her the paper and letting her work at his desk, the king moved aside, sitting on a canopy, to relax. She could only imagine what pain he was true, but he did not show much of his suffering. Turning her back to him and allowing him so privacy, she prepared to stamp it when she quickly looked at the content of the letter. Should she have done that? Perhaps not. But she could not understand French either, it was a foreign language to her. Still, she read a bit of it and understood the intended message of it.

_It is not fitting that a hand so weak as mine should hold power when fear of Arab aggression daily presses upon the Holy City and when my sickness increases the enemy’s daring… I, therefore, beg you that, having called together the barons of the kingdom of France, you immediately choose one of them to take charge of this Holy Kingdom._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The text that is part of the letter at the end is a segment of a real letter the historical character King Baldwin IV had sent to France to appoint a new King, something France will fail to do and King Baldwin will have to look for someone already in the court to replace him. The rest is history. (this text was found on a post on Tumblr and I just reused it.)
> 
> The text is placed there to be fully understandable to you, the reader, but Aspasia cannot read French. She can recognize a few words and detect the tone, which means she understood the content of the document and therefore the gravity of the situation.


	19. Road to Jerusalem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sybilla wants to leave Jerusalem for a day and so she takes Aspasia with her to see Ibelin for the first time. As Aspasia returns to Jerusalem on her own, she makes a gruesome discovery in the desert.

Aspasia stood at the front gates with servants near her, waiting for the others to arrive back. As the sun began to set, the streets grew louder with people talking and music. It was only a matter of time until the Patriarch of Jerusalem arrived back. She looked around her, wondering why the King was not going to greet the guest in person, but perhaps there was some bad blood between the two, Aspasia could only presume. She wondered if he had not had enough time to recuperate from his stroll outside his apartments, or perhaps getting out to greet the Patriarch would require him to remain at the social event.

The gates soon opened and Sybilla’s two favourite hounds bolted inside, indicating the others were not far behind. Then the horses arrived, first entered Balian, then Sybilla, with Tiberias, the Patriarch and guards who came from the Vatican. Instantly, servants began to attend the guests. Helping them climb off their horse and take off their coat. “Aspasia!” chanted Sybilla, “I am so happy to see you – a whole day in the company of men has tired me more than you would believe it.”

_Oh, you’re such a liar, Sybilla. You simply adore the attention of men._ Especially of the one whom she loved the most. Sybilla put her hand on Aspasia’s back and introduced her to the Patriarch.

“Heraclius, this is Aspasia, a dear friend of mine. Aspasia, Heraclius of Jerusalem, Patriarch of the city and the presentative of the Catholic Church in the Holy Land.” Aspasia bowed politely at the older gentleman and the Patriarch bowed his head at her too. Sybilla then pulled Aspasia back aside, as if she knew there wasn’t going to be a lot of interaction between the two. It was better, as a matter of fact, to leave Tiberias and Balian to take care of the guest, for Aspasia risked insulting him if provoked.

“How was the hunt?” Aspasia asked the princess. She looked behind the shoulder and watched two servants carry to the kitchens a huge boar. The beast still had its thin coat of fun and its fangs. Whoever had hunted it made sure the arrows that struck it did not create a mess. “I see you have enough food to feed my whole village back in Europe.”

“Well, Balian had to show off his skills,” Sybilla laughed, “especially after the last time that this happened, Tiberias had managed to catch a beautiful deer.”

“And have you caught anything, Sybilla?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot hold a bow to save my life,” laughed the princess.

Aspasia chuckled. “Neither can I. I can wield many weapons except a bow. Perhaps we should learn how to do it together.”

“Perhaps we should,” agreed Sybilla, “how was your day at the palace? Not too boring? I know my brother has a lot of paperwork to handle and I assume this is not very enjoyable to do.”

Aspasia scratched the bridge of her nose, slightly embarrassed. “Boring, I would say is a bit harsh. It is something that has to be done, and I am glad I was there to help the King. I got the impression he would like to have company. Consider spending more time with him, Sybilla, you are his sister and the only woman in his life.” The princess smiled but it looked fake. Aspasia was not going to insist on the topic any longer, knowing Sybilla detested being told what to do, very much just like her. She told her what she wanted to say, there was no point in insisting on it anymore.

The two women waited for the men to get ready and headed to the gardens. Servants there had placed a table and began setting the dishes and glasses, while the food was being prepared. They were offered glasses of wine, and seeing Aspasia was not too open to the idea of drinking alcohol, Sybilla insisted. “Where is the King?” asked the Patriarch.

“His Majesty is in his rooms,” answered Tiberias, “I do not think he will be joining us tonight, please do not think ill of him for this.”

“Of course not,” the Patriarch nodded his head understandably, “I was only curious to see how he was handling himself. I cannot help but worry about the progression of his disease. How awful must it be to … You know …”

Everybody knew.

The subject of the conversation changed soon after. They discussed the travel from Messina, in Italy, then of the pilgrims that made it safely to the Holy Land and what the Vatican planned to do with the constant threats of Arab invasion. All seemed very political speech, and Aspasia found it more boring than ever. She looked over to Sybilla, who seemed to pay close attention to what was being said.

“I am not too sure the Vatican understands the gravity of the situation,” the Patriarch admitted, “especially since they deem sending more people to occupy the land will suffice in creating peace. There is a lot of misinformation going around and people of all social statuses leave their homelands to get here, perhaps hoping to make money.”

“It is true the King is very keen on creating a long-term peace treaty,” spoke Tiberias, “which is why he promotes tolerance of the Other.”

“But for some men, this seems impossible,” then added Balian. Aspasia could guess they were referring to a specific group or a specific individual. She began to feel a bit on the outside for she did not understand many inferences.

The discussion stopped when the food arrived, and the boar that had been hunted earlier in the day was on served on a silver tray, with salad and other vegetables placed around it, garnished in a sauce that went well with the meat. Aspasia looked around the table, as the food was being served. “Will the King eat as well or will he have a separate dinner?” she whispered in Sybilla’s ear.

“Oh my, Aspasia, you worry awfully much about him,” Sybilla joked. This comment provoked Aspasia to blush. Whether Sybilla noticed it or not, she did not comment on it. “My brother will eat; he just prefers not to do so with us. Do not worry about him.” This more or less put Aspasia at ease. She found it odd that people were sitting at the King’s table but the King was not seated among them. She looked around her and noted that no one felt the same way as she did. Perhaps they were used to it.

After dinner, Sybilla and Tiberias accompanied the Patriarch to his quarters, to help him set for the evening. Balian had climbed on a horse and rode back to Ibelin. Aspasia had no other option but to retreat to her rooms for the night. On her way there, she crossed path with the little prince, who looked sleepy but still wore his day clothes. “What are you doing up? Is it not late for you?” Aspasia asked little Baldwin.

The young boy pulled close to his chest his little figures. “I could not sleep. Where is _maman_?”

“She’s helping our guest and taking him to his quarters for the night. Do you know who Heraclius is?”

The boy nodded. “He is part of the Church, isn’t he? He often travels and sometimes he brings me sweets or toys. Lately, he has been bringing me clothes as gifts, but I am not too sure I am happy about that, although I should not complain about a gift.”

Aspasia chuckled. She was sure Sybilla was happy to see the clothes her son received, more than toys. Aspasia noticed the boy tended to be messy when he played and had his figures scattered about everywhere around his mother’s rooms. It must have annoyed everyone to pick up after him. Aspasia was a bit like this too, although she could not allow herself to do that in a house that did not belong to her.

“Let us take your toys and head to bed,” suggested Aspasia, “maybe I have a few other stories to tell you, but first you need to change in your night-time clothes.”

The boy nodded and he indicated Aspasia to follow him. He proudly announced her he was capable of changing clothes himself, although he was not allowed yet to chose what he wanted to wear. That was still his mother’s job. Aspasia could guess why; oftentimes, the prince would pick random items and pair them together, even though they did not fit together nor were they ideal for the weather.

She tucked him into bed and placed the figures at his feet. “What story do you have for me today, Aspasia?” he asked.

“I already told you about pirates, what do you say we hear the story of how I defeated a bandit who stole from rich merchants and hid all his hidden gems inside a cave? That story took place on the island of Chios, do you know where that is?”

She began explaining how she found herself to travel to the island and came across a man who claimed his shipments were always intercepted by a thief who would take what he could get and hide the items away. Just like last time, she pulled on an entire show for the little prince, explaining in detail what fine gold and jewelry was taken, how she fought against the bear that lived in the cave and how she caught the bandit as he was about to trade the items for drachmae. The prince listened to her with wide eyes, laughed when Aspasia would pretend to pull a punch or dodge a hit, then fall on the carpet, roll on the side to avoid another imaginary hit, and get back up in a defensive position.

“Oh, this was great! I want you to tell me this story again!” he clapped his hands.

Aspasia whipped the sweat above her brow. She had already begun sweating from the amount of exercise she has done simply to tell a tale, and the prince did not seem to notice it. She chuckled and playfully tucked him in bed again, using the blanket to cover his mouth as well. “Hush, you must sleep now,” she said with a smile, “you were already awake when I found you strolling in the corridors, I cannot keep you awake any longer, or else your mother will not be happy with me.”

He accepted defeat with a frown, but he let Aspasia walk away. She checked in on him to make sure he closed his eyes and then walked out of the room. On her way out, she found Sybilla coming from the opposite direction. “How was everything with the Patriarch?”

Sybilla nodded her head. “Very well. He is glad to be back, and he is very familiar with the palace so I doubt he will have any trouble adjusting. Is Baldwin in bed already?”

“Yes, I counted him another story and he is asleep now.”

“Let me guess: a story about knights.”

Aspasia laughed and corrected: “not this time. We went for a story with thieves, on an island in Greece.”

Sybilla seemed impressed. “He is obsessed with knights. I am surprised you managed to tell him other stories. I have to tell you when Isabella comes to visit, and they play together, it is always a problem of whether they play knights or princesses.”

Aspasia shrugged her shoulders. Children had this tendency of wanting to always do things their way. They knew very well what they wanted to do and rarely agreed to compromise.

“Speaking of Greek,” Sybilla jumped, “are we going to have classes tomorrow?”

“It is as you wish, Sybilla, I am here at your disposal. We can do both Greek and combat if that is what you wish.”

“Tomorrow, Tiberias will be busy at the palace with the King, and the Patriarch will be there with them. I was hoping to make a trip down to Ibelin, and perhaps even remain there for a short period of time. Would you like to join me there? I wanted to escape the noise of the city.”

“Is Balian alright with me being there?” Aspasia asked.

“Of course.”

“In that case, I do not have any objections. I am not sure I will be staying there for the night, but we can very much make it a small excursion.”

“Lovely!” peeped Sybilla. “In that case, I will bid you a good night. Thank you for putting Baldwin to sleep, he really likes you and your stories.”

“Will he still like me when I run out of stories?”

Sybilla’s eyes glistened as if she heard Aspasia make a joke for the first time in her life. “You and I both know that with your temperament, you will always put yourself in a situation worthy of a story. I doubt you will run out of tales to tell.”

←→

The following day, in the morning, Aspasia met the princess at the front gates, where two horses had been prepared for them. Aspasia looked at the guards in the royal armour awaiting to accompany them to Ibelin and felt something hard in her throat. In a matter of minutes, Sybilla had arrived, dressed impeccably in her deep orange robes. “You look nervous,” the princess commented.

“Is that guard necessary?” Aspasia asked in a whisper. The princess gave her an exasperated look as if to tell her ‘you already know the answer to that’. Aspasia did not insist anymore. There was no Tiberias to bid them farewell, for he had been, along with the Patriarch, visiting the King’s apartments to discuss political matters. This made Aspasia feel anxious for it indicated something important was taking place.

“Do you think there is going to be a war soon?” she asked Sybilla. The princess looked surprised. The question came out of nowhere. “I am sorry, I cannot help but think that, since Tiberias, the Patriarch and the King seem to be pressed by important issues, and I know nothing of them,” clarified Aspasia.

“I do not believe there is anything for you to worry about. You will be safe, Aspasia, whatever happens. Let them deal with whatever they have to deal with, my brother has always been good in diplomacy and in the art of war, so I do not worry about anything. Neither should you.”

She put a lot of trust in her brother. Perhaps he had experienced in the matter and was surrounded by a good council, but Aspasia caught a glimpse of the letter that had been sent to Europe, and it conveyed his worries about his sickness and the oppression coming from outside the borders.

Deciding it would be best to not mention any of that to Sybilla, Aspasia simply pretended the answer she had been given reassured her, and then followed the princess, on her horse, very closely. “Ibelin is in the South,” indicated Sybilla, “we should get there after the mid-day, Balian expects our arrival.” The gates opened and the two women, accompanied by a few soldiers for protection, left the castle grounds.

The trip lasted half a day, having to stop occasionally for the horses to drink and for them to eat. The hot sun burned the dry land and without adequate clothing, could tire and irritate the travellers. The roads seemed to be used frequently by pilgrims, mostly Muslims, who came to visit Jerusalem from Syria and Egypt. Occasionally they would pass caravans of people, but despite crossing paths, they did not speak or communicate with each other.

Aspasia tried to imagine how the Muslims’ trip was. Unlike her, who had to get there by ship, these caravans came either on foot, camel or horse-back. Perhaps they had chosen a path that was close to the desert or they walked alongside the mountains. Occasionally, they may come across a village point and stop there to regroup, rest or buy more provisions. Ibelin was a spot much like that.

Aspasia had been told that it used to be a patch of dry land with a few palm trees, but nothing attractive. The people there had been living in poverty, earning something when they managed to sell some items, or they welcomed pilgrims in inns. It was unclear to Aspasia when that changed, but Sybilla told her they had found water sources and developed their agriculture, making it a piece of land more attractive than it originally was.

“I think I see something in the distance,” shouted Aspasia while covering her mouth with a piece of fabric to not swallow dust. The princess agreed with her and they headed in the direction of the small houses that could be seen in the distance.

As they approached the first line of houses, they saw the rest of Ibelin stretch out into the distance. Men and women seemed busy working on the fields and with animals while children helped out wherever they could. An Arab man in long dirty robes – clearly, he had been working with the soil all day – began to shout for his master. Other men assembled around the princess and Aspasia and helped everyone get off their horses.

“I do not see Balian,” Aspasia noted.

Sybilla did not need to reply. She looked in the distance and smiled at the man in a white shirt jogging in their direction.

“Princess. Aspasia. Welcome,” Balian said with an enamoured smile, looking mostly at Sybilla. Aspasia wanted to roll her eyes. The soldiers that had accompanied them remained stoic at that interaction.

They were led to the mansion where Balian lived, and maids attributed them each a room. Aspasia would have protested she will not be spending the night but when realizing they were also offering her to take a bath, she accepted gladly. She had been given new robes, somehow elegant but which allowed her to move comfortably in, and her hair had been pinned in the back carefully.

She later found Sybilla on the balcony of her room, having just taken a bath herself, and eating a meal. “Please, join me Aspasia, you must also be hungry.” The princess motioned the free seat next to her and pushed toward Aspasia the tray with the fruits. The latter sat next to Sybilla and began peeling the orange she had picked.

“So, this is Ibelin,” Aspasia, “almost like a little corner of Eden, if you look closely.”

“Is this how you imagined Eden?”

Aspasia shrugged. “I am not sure, actually. I would assume in Eden food is plentiful and Man does not have to work for food, but then I am telling myself that we do not enjoy what is free the same way we enjoy something we worked off. These people worked to plant their vegetables, feed the cattle, and make sure there is sufficient water. When they will harvest and they will feast, the experience would not be the same.”

“So you value work,” Sybilla concluded. There was a moment of quiet between the two women as they ate. A maid would walk in with a flask with wine and she would pour the liquid in their cups. Aspasia drank very little, for she wanted to be able to focus during their fighting lesson.

“Is there a reason why you brought me to Ibelin to do your lesson?”

Sybilla clenched her teeth. She sent a side look and noticed Aspasia was very serious, and she said: “my husband would be at the palace, along with his Templar friends. We always fight when we are together for too long.”

“Fights are normal among couples,” said Aspasia, but she quickly realized she knew nothing of romantic relationships. She wondered if little Baldwin was going to be alright without his mother there, but there was little chance Guy de Lusignan would be allowed to be around him without his mother’s approval.

“Yes, well, I do not know what else to say,” replied bitterly the princess. Aspasia dropped the subject before it would turn sour. If there was one person who could put Sybilla in a good mood, it was Balian for sure. The knight and baron, however, was busy working in the fields with his people.

The two women finished eating and when they were done, Sybilla led Aspasia to an interior garden, much smaller than the one at the palace, but with privacy. Unlike the royal palace, Balian’s abode was quieter and more isolated. To Aspasia’s surprise, there was an armoury at their disposal. Aspasia had picked up the finest swords she could find and inspect the quality.

“Are you going to fight with real swords today?” Sybilla asked.

Aspasia laughed at the thought. If they did, Sybilla would manage to hurt her, not because she can yield a sword but because the princess is clumsy and still cannot grasp the weapon properly without it slipping from her hands.

“It is too early for that. We will work with a wooden sword. Maybe in the near future, you will be ready.”

She grabbed a wooden sword and a wooden shield and threw them for Sybilla to catch. With her own set in her hands, she led the princess back in the garden and closed the door that led to the armoury.

←→

Several hours later, the two women sat down on a bench to take a breather when Balian arrived. He washed his hands in a bowl filled with water that had been left on the side for the two women and joined them. “Who would have ever thought a princess such as Sybilla would be the one to get interested in swordsmanship.”

“As I said in the past, I am _unpredictable_.” There was a cheeky smile from Sybilla. Aspasia did not understand the reference, perhaps it was something between the two of them.

“Aspasia has a peculiar style in fighting,” commented Balian, this time turning his head away from Sybilla and toward the other young woman.

Aspasia looked up at him, then focused her gaze on the princess. Sybilla had never seen her fight but could perhaps deduce from what she had heard about Aspasia that she was no ordinary warrior. As if to taunt her, Sybilla asked: “How so?”

Balian picked up a wooden sword from the ground, turned it in the air and then placed it against his shoulder. “For one, she tends to use her whole body when she fights.”

That was something Aspasia knew was true. Her father had taught her to use everything when fighting. If she a limb, she had to use for it could potentially injure her opponent. What scared her opponents the majority of the time was the idea of receiving a fatal blow in the stomach or in the head, but Aspasia forced herself to look beyond that and use her whole body in a way that would put her in an advantage.

“And second, she uses as much space as possible.”

“That is, indeed, one of the first lessons I have taught Sybilla,” Aspasia agreed, “and I noticed men who fight, especially in squadrons, do not do that. They remain regrouped and composed, their body is static and tense, and they remain very close to their companion as if to make sure there is no breach. I suppose when you are fighting in a large group, that is the best strategy to employ but from my experience, it is best you use all the space you have around you to fight and move.”

“Did you fight solo only?”

“No, not only. I have fought on foot, on a horse, I have done it solo, with a team or with a large group. I tend to despise working with others, especially when there are too many people around.”

As if they could guess her reasons, Sybilla and Balian looked at each other and laughed. Aspasia realized she was getting ahead of herself – if she kept on telling them stories, they will demand more and ask questions of her past. She stood up from her seat and picked up the other wooden sword that was still on the ground. Dusting it off, she twirled it in her hand and got into fighting position.

“Balian of Ibelin.”

“Yes, that is I.”

“I challenge you to a mock-sword fight. Our last match was a tie.”

Balian smirked. “I doubt my memory is failing me but allow me to correct you and say that it was _most definitely not a tie._ ”

“It was a tie because I was overpowered by two men.”

“I will disagree – you got yourself in a situation that was unpredictable and unfair.”

“Well, I did fight off several guards before I made my way to Tiberias, therefore I was more tired.”

Sybilla rolled her eyes on the bench and sat back more comfortably. Balian felt now the pressure to impress his lady and Aspasia could not wait to fight him this time. His bottom will be on the ground more than he will admit later to other people. The knight got in position; wooden sword ready to strike.

Aspasia quickly put one hand on the soil, then pushed a leg up to kick the weapon out of his hand. The wooden sword landed with a loud sound somewhere behind a bush. She used that moment to put her other hand on the ground and with her left leg, she hit the knight in the neck. Balian fell heavily on the ground and brought his hand to massage the area where he had been hit. Aspasia quickly stood up and adjusted her posture. She looked down at him, a sneaky smile across her lips. As if in disbelief, Balian chuckled, then he responded: “I should have known you would not play it fair, good one.”

“This was only a demonstration that one does not require a weapon to fight an opponent who is armed,” she laughed and looked at Sybilla, who was equally surprised and amused at what happened.

Balian got back in a position, asking for a rematch.

←→

In the evening, Sybilla and Balian had joined Aspasia with her horse, and met her near the outskirts of Ibelin. While Balian stabilized the horse, Sybilla gave Aspasia a hand to help her climb on it. “How long will you remain in Ibelin?” Aspasia asked Sybilla. “Without you at the palace, I do not have much of a purpose there. Besides, I need someone to keep me under control, or else I might insult someone.”

Sybilla and Balian laughed at her attempt to joke. Balian patted the horse’s mane and said: “As long as the only person you insult is Tiberias, you should be safe. God forbid you to offend anyone else; they will ask for your head.”

Sybilla elbowed Balian in the ribs, and the knight chuckled. “Do not listen to him, he is just saying this to make fun of you. I know you, and I know you will bite your tongue instead of saying anything remotely stupid. Also, please Aspasia, be nice to Tiberias while you are there. You were nice to my brother, surely you can be nice to him.”

Aspasia would have rolled her eyes – there was almost no chance she will ever be nice to Tiberias, that was just how their relationship worked. “Farewell, then,” she said, “I will await your return soon, otherwise I will have trouble keeping myself busy.” And with that, she led the horse in the direction of Jerusalem.

Behind her, Balian and Sybilla waved their hand at her and soon, they grew really small in the distance. Aspasia turned her focus back on the road, glad to finally have a moment on her own. Ever since she had been at the palace, there was always someone with her, whether it was one of the servants or people living at the palace. She was so used to being alone, when it came to work, and to be with her own thoughts, it was odd to have this constant company. Not that she minded it.

Looking at the sky in the distance, she watched the beautiful sunset, and she knew for sure she would arrive back in Jerusalem in the middle of the night. She let the cool wind of the late afternoon blow her hair back. Luckily for Aspasia, the soldiers that rode with them earlier in the day had remained at Ibelin to protect the princess, orders from Tiberias.

Hours had passed, Aspasia watched the sky darken. As that happened, the cold began to set, and Aspasia put on another layer of clothes when she had stopped with her horse to drink water. Midnight had passed and Aspasia was still on the road. She would have thought she would come across Muslim pilgrims, and perhaps she could travel with them, but it appeared many had taken shelter in small villages across their path for the night.

Somewhat familiar with the location where she was and capable of estimating the distance left to get to the city, she noticed in the distance a piece of cloth that was led astray by the wind. She stopped the horse and looked around, clearly remembering having taken that same path in the morning to head to Ibelin. There was nothing on the roads earlier, no one had left their personal belongings in the middle of the desert.

Vivid images of the time when she found Sister Bertha’s body popped in her mind and her heart began beating very rapidly in her chest. Without hesitating for another second, she led the horse off the path toward the piece of cloth that was caught in the wind. It appeared to be only a piece of a veil; Aspasia was unsure what was its use and could not guess who it belonged to.

On the ground, almost hidden entirely by the sand, were pieces of armour or various other items. She began to panic when she realized that more and more items could be found, indicating one thing only: something had happened in this area, isolated from the rest of the world, and there was going to be blood further down.

She led the horse up the hill, then down the hill, toward a place where a massacre had visibly taken place. A few bodies laid on the ground had frozen under the cold of the night and a few animals had escaped what appeared to be a raid. The bodies left were dressed in Syrian or Egyptian fashion, and when Aspasia paid close attention to the faces of the people, many looked like Muslims. She could tell they had travelled from their native land to visit their holy sites.

“Oh shit, shit, shit,” muttered Aspasia. All of this hit too close to home. She had grown tired to see all this carnage as if they were meant especially for her. The roads were quiet and if someone were to find this, they would only do so the next day, when the bodies will be in an advanced stage of decay. When exactly were they attacked? Who led this raid? For what purpose? These men and women did not carry any sword with them.

Getting off her horse, she began to push on the bodies, hoping to see one of them move. Perhaps there was truly no one left to save. She had attempted to provoke a reaction in any of them and was growing desperate when suddenly, a man that had been lying face flat in the sand had a knee jerk movement.

“ _Malaka_. Wake up,” she hissed at the man. Forcing him to roll on the side, she quickly patted him on the back to make him spit all the dirt in his mouth. She almost had to force him to be responsive as he was very quick to close his eyes and faint again.

She tried to speak to him, in Latin and in Greek, but he did not seem to understand anything. She dropped him back in the dirt, ran to her horse and fished out of her back her flask of water. She opened the bottle, and then when she brought it to the man’s lips, almost spilling part of it on his face. There was a strong reaction from him, where he jumped and began shouting things in Arabic.

“I have no idea if you are insulting me right now,” she spoke, “but I frankly do not care enough to be bothered. Are there any more survivors? Who attacked you?”

The man tried to crawl away from her and almost shouted. He used big gestures to mimic the scene, but Aspasia had a hard to getting anything out of him. She took off her second robe and put it around the man’s shoulders, then prompted him to follow her to the horse. She almost had to push him up for he was injured in the leg. Using whatever she could find to patch him up, she covered his wound and made sure he was sitting correctly on the horse, otherwise he would have fallen off.

“You better be thankful for me,” she mumbled, “I cannot believe that after spending the whole day riding this horse and exercising with Sybilla, I still have to walk. Hopefully, some of your horses are still around and I can catch one and use to myself.” The man yelled at her in Arabic, but he soon grew tired and stopped protesting. Aspasia held the horse by its reins and walked alongside it. She dreaded the thought of having to walk. Jerusalem was still very far and at this rate, they will arrive early in the morning, at best. All she could hope was that the man would survive the trip and that someone at the palace will be able to understand his story.


	20. Holy Sepulcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King defends Aspasia when she claims she is innocent. As negotiations with Saladin's representative do not seem to go as planned, Aspasia fears her newly acquired 'normal life' may crumble soon due to political tensions.

It was dawn when Aspasia reached the gates of the palace. She was glad it was early in the morning otherwise people would have looked at her strangely for carrying a sleepy man on horseback. The guards opened the gates for her but when they saw the man, pale skin and gauze drenched in blood, they quickly ran to help him.

Other guards came with clean bandages and they helped Aspasia carry him in a more secluded room. The noise must have bothered the people working at the palace for Tiberias arrived, and he looked confused at what had happened. “Please do not tell me this is a ‘mistake’ you have made,” he said, exasperated by Aspasia’s antics.

She was about to jump at him and fight him when a guard who was there caught Aspasia mid-air and pulled her close to his chest. She attempted to throw a punch, but the guard held her firmly.

“Stupid, STUPID, Tiberias, always thinking so lowly of me!” she spat furiously, “I saved his life, this is what I did!!”

Tiberias’ shoulders dropped and he indicated the guard to let her go. The man remained nearby, however, and nothing else could make him go, otherwise, Aspasia would jump at Tiberias’ throat one more time.

“You seem to attract that kind of problem, does it not? You found Sister Bertha, and now you come across him –“

“-Stop.”

A stern but quiet voice interrupted them. Something made Aspasia freeze in place, her blood boiling. Tiberias and she turned their heads and found the King standing there, looking at the two of them. The man had his arms behind his back, shoulders slouched, and almost bothered by their constant bickering.

“Your majesty,” spoke Tiberias, “you should not be leaving your rooms.”

“I am fine Tiberias. Please have more curtesy with a lady.” The King approached them and almost forced them to separate. Aspasia would have cried, for the first time, someone was taking her side. Almost taking her side. It was enough for her; she was never asked before to tell her own point of view of what happened. There was no way she would allow herself to cry in front of the King, it would ruin her image.

The King almost separated the two by stepping in between them and with his arms, he pushed them further away from each other. He then instructed Tiberias to go attend the servants who were taking care of the injured man, and when Tiberias had left, he turned toward Aspasia.

She felt her face hot, cheeks perhaps red and teary eyes, but Aspasia was going to blame it on fatigue. “He is right, though.,” she said.

“Do not listen to him. I promise you I will talk to him; he is just under pressure and can say the meanest things when he does not think clearly.”

“Not that,” Aspasia chuckled, “I mean that you should not be leaving your rooms.”

It was as if her laugh reassured the King a bit. He sighed and looked in the direction where Tiberias left. “Really, Tiberias was in the wrong this time, I saw everything, so you will not have to worry,” the King continued, “but please, next time, do not jump to attack him, it does not make you look good.”

She nodded her head understandably. With that, the King instructed her to follow him and so they headed to Tiberias’ office in the palace. With Aspasia’s help, they cleared the desk and the King began filling in the report. It was clear to Aspasia that he will be busy with diplomatic matters in the following days. Perhaps the King had an idea of who could have raided the Muslim caravan, despite the fact that Aspasia did not say she saw any debris left by the attacker.

She was already anticipating being left aside, despite having been the one to make the discovery. Knowing the King, he would not allow a lady to get involved in such matters. She offered to have the letter delivered like she did last time, but the King suggested her to go rest instead. With that, Aspasia ran upstairs to head to her room, where she took a bath and got in bed immediately right after.

←→

Several days have passed until Sybilla was back from Ibelin. Upon her arrival, she was told what had happened and how it was going to be dealt with. She met with Aspasia, both stood outside Tiberias’ office, where a man who came to negotiate on the behalf of Saladin had come. Aspasia sent Sybilla a worried look, but the princess remained stoic Was this not the first raid that had happened?

The doors burst open and a foreign man walked out, looking somewhat displeased. Aspasia watched him head toward his servants who had been waiting for him. Tiberias steps out of the room and goes to greet the princess.

“Is everything alright?”

“For now, yes,” Tiberias answer, “how was your trip?”

The princess nodded and replied ‘good.’ As the two walked away, Aspasia was left standing alone. She peeked inside the room and found the King sitting down on a chair, pensively looking at the ground. She hesitated walking in, but when the King sensed her presence, he welcomed her inside.

Aspasia strolled inside the room and sighed. She took a seat next to him.

“I have this impressive all this trouble is my fault,” she admitted.

The King quickly dismissed that thought. “This would have reached my ears in one way or another. We know who the culprit is, and now what I can do is try to negotiate for the best outcome. As you can see, that man who just walked out, was not too happy. I would give him a day or two and we will come to a conclusion.”

“He was sent by Saladin, was he not? I am sure the sultan has his own agenda and we are only making him angrier by pressuring him to accept our terms.”

The King sat back on the chair and massaged his scalp through the cloak he was wearing.

“Who is the culprit, may I ask?”

The King turned his head toward Aspasia and crossed his arms over his chest. “I suspect it is either Reynald or Guy, but I am not too sure. Reynald was taking prisoner after Antioch was invaded, and he was rescued recently only. I know it is in his character to do that, but I did not expect it so soon. Any sane person would have waited more time to execute their revenge.”

“And what about Guy?”

“Guy was missing for a few nights, claiming it had to do with business with the Templar order. He tends to be impulsive and he does not think twice before doing something – this would explain why he raided that caravan so close to the road and did not bother to hide what had happened.”

“These are all speculations,” reminded Aspasia,” how can we prove it was either one of them? Will they speak on the matter?”

“We will hold a court soon, they will have to present themselves.”

But the court was a formality more than anything. If the King had an idea in mind, whether his speculation was correct or false, the decision was almost made. She was going to trust his judgment, he must know Reynald and Guy well enough.

“How will you work with that?” Aspasia asked, “Guy is a Templar, and their orders come from the Vatican. I doubt they will obey the orders of another King.”

“They will obey to Heraclius, who will have to denounce them to the Pope. I would not worry about that, Aspasia,” said the King.

“I met Guy once,” she continued, “would you like me to tell you about that?”

The King looked a bit too long at her, as if the choice of her words was odd. He nodded his head, prepared to hear her story. She admitted to him that it was a rather unusual encounter and that she had planned to use that story against Guy if she needed it, but it was clear to her that everyone knew about Guy and his antics. The King listened attentively to the story, perhaps a thousand different thoughts going on in his head at that moment. When Aspasia was done counting, she could hear a small chuckle coming from him, but soon it became a cough.

She quickly jumped to get him a cup with water, but the King told her to sit back. “I am fine, I am fine, thank you,” he said, sounding a bit amused.

Aspasia looked at him to make sure he was truly fine and complied. She then spoke in a serious tone: “I am worried about Sybilla, he might hurt her.”

He shook his head. “Sybilla is safe, Guy would not do anything to her, he wishes too much to get power through her.” And from that, it sounded as if the discussion was over. It was clear to Aspasia there was nothing for her to worry about because most people had Guy figured out. It appeared that Guy was the only one who still believed he was clever.

The King stood up from his seat and asked Aspasia to accompany him to his apartments. She offered him an arm for support, but he refused it politely and preferred to walk alongside the walls. When they finally arrived at his apartments, they were met by a servant who instantly walked by the King’s side to help him.

He was about to step inside when he stopped and said to Aspasia: “One word of advice, lady Aspasia, I see a lot of potential in you. You have lived an honest life ever since you entered the castle doors. Do not let others ruin that for you and do not allow yourself to be tempted to do what is wrong – this will lead you astray.”

He wanted perhaps to add something, but instead he nodded his head and walked inside his apartments with the servant. The door had been left open for her to walk in if she wanted to, but Aspasia preferred to step away for now and give the King some privacy. She understood the King had some knowledge about her status prior the deal with Phillip, and he also had some history with his own family and his court that allowed him to speak about getting on a good path. Aspasia grew curious to learn more about him.

←→

She thought her life had slowly began to turn to normal after a few days. The matter of the caravan remained unspoken by those who were not concerned by it but Aspasia knew the court hearing and negotiations would still be taking place. Would Saladin accept a sum of money over the lives of some pilgrims? Was this raid not considered almost a call for war? King Baldwin was almost desperate to maintain peace but peace in this kingdom was fragile. Almost like a tacit rule, Aspasia had not brought up the topic among Tiberias or Sybilla or Balian.

It was the end of the week, and Sybilla had come across Aspasia in the castle. When she found her, she came with the strangest invitations ever. It was about attending Church for Sunday mass. Aspasia was not sure about it. It was going to be special because the Patriarch had just arrived back from the Vatican not long ago and he was going to hold mass at the Holy Sepulchre for the Royal family. It was almost a confirmation that Aspasia was part of that circle.

She had not really been to Church, even less to a Catholic one, and she was too embarrassed to tell Sybilla she would not be able to understand what the Patriarch would say. It did not matter, according to Sybilla, all she had to do was to remain quiet and listen. It was not as if Aspasia had other plans, nor did she attend any other Church in the city. With that, she could not argue. She told herself that maybe she needed to work more on the spiritual aspect of her life because she had neglected it for the sake of working on her health and body. Deep down, she wanted to think that it would do her good. Perhaps provide her with some answers or give her a sense of peace.

That Sunday morning, she put on some beautiful clothes and headed to the Holy Sepulchre, an hour later. Right at the front sat Sybilla with her son. Little Baldwin held on his laps a few figurines, which he played with silently. His mother had an arm on his shoulders, pulling him close to her, lovingly. Not far from them but separated nonetheless was King Baldwin, covered head to toe. This time, he wore a light blue cloak and his mask was ornamented with flowery details, from what Aspasia could see from where she was standing.

She had been told she could not sit at the front rows and quite frankly, she was perfectly content in sitting at the back. She spent the whole time looking around at the ceiling, admiring the architecture and artwork – entirely different from those Greek churches. The colored tiles told stories of Christ which Aspasia was more or less familiar with. Something about being in a church brought a feeling of shame. She had done some terrible things in the past for the Order, fought many people, injured most of them and never valued their life. She thought to herself that many people sitting next to her had been at war and done so to people from other nations. Most countries thrived through battle, otherwise, they would be dominated by their neighbour.

Mass ended and people began standing up. Most of them were nobles and they were familiar to one another, so conversation sparked easily. Aspasia stood more on the side, looking at the others interacting. Sybilla greeted her brother, her son looking somewhat intimidated by his uncle. Aspasia analyzed that relationship a bit closer. She had no idea the King interacted with his nephew, she always supposed Sybilla would keep them apart as the King’s disease was contagious and little Baldwin was very vulnerable, as a child, to catch it. Sybilla picked up her son in her arms and tickled him a bit to provoke a reaction while King Baldwin tried to talk to him, perhaps in a baby-talk, from a safe distance. He seemed to be good with children and very fond of his nephew. His mask must have scared others, little Baldwin was perhaps too young to even fathom what leprosy looked like and what it could do.

With that, Sybilla and Baldwin walked ahead and joined the Patriarch at the front, where they chatted for a bit, the King standing not far behind them and following them. Aspasia watched closely, waiting for a cue to join them when they were about to leave. Her gaze went to the entrance, where many people were exiting slowly and in groups. Balian stood by the door, but when he saw Aspasia, he walked to her at a slow pace.

“Did you not sit with them at the front?” he asked her, brows knitted together.

“The front seats are reserved for the royal family,” she explained.

He nodded his head understandingly. There was a quiet moment.

Aspasia looked at Balian and broke the silence between them by asking: “is there any progress in the case with Phillip?”

Balian shook his head. Did that mean there was none or that he did not wish to discuss the details with her? Seeing that Aspasia was not satisfied with his answer, he added: “we cannot close this case just yet. I cannot say I know much about Tiberias’ plan but I can only suppose that whatever was meant to happen, their tactic was flawed and they need time to regroup.”

“Phillip was buried, though,” said Aspasia, “and when I spoke to him, I never had the impression he was under pressure himself. It was as if he was working very much alone.”

“Somehow, he knew you were up to take the task.”

That was true. Aspasia had arrived in Jerusalem as a nobody. The various jobs she took on never involved violence, perhaps a bit of negotiation, charm and intimidation. He must have known she was a very capable woman but how did he know she could assassinate?

“I would rather not speak about murder inside a church,” she admitted. There was a dark look on her face as if rain clouds floated above her head. “Perhaps we could discuss this at a later time.”

Balian seemed to agree. Aspasia’s gaze returned on Sybilla, her son and King Baldwin. The whole family had been so good to her. More than her own father, Akakios. She had to do everything she could to protect them.


	21. A Mother and A Monarch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia grows frustrated with Sibylla's habits and reproaches her of neglecting her son and ignoring her duties as a future ruler when her brother will no longer be by her side to guide her. This is the first time she fights with the princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER WILL BE SUBJECT TO REVISION IN THE FUTURE. I am posting this just to allow me to work on the next chapters that are to come.

By the end of the day, everyone had returned to the palace and headed in their own directions. Aspasia ended up eating at noon on her own, which she did not mind actually. Most of the time, she was constantly surrounded by someone, whether that was a member of the royal family or a servant. She was finally glad to have a moment to be alone, in her own thoughts. It was when she finished eating that a maid walked up to her and informed her Sibylla was looking for her. Without wasting another moment, Aspasia got up and left the dinner table. She headed upstairs to the princess’ rooms and was met by lively chatter. As she opened the doors, she found the princess laughing with other women on her couches – the woman with whom Guy de Lusignan had had an affair with was nowhere in sight.

“Aspasia!” exclaimed joyfully the princess, as if the two of them have not seen each other in ages, when in fact it was only the night before, “I am so glad you made it! Could you bring us some more wine please?”

A semi-heavy object was shoved in Aspasia’s hands, and as it made contact with her chest, she almost puffed. The Princess had placed a large cask where only a little wine was left at the bottom of it. Surely, she did not call Aspasia to her rooms just to ask her to fill a cask. There were maids working in the castle who were paid to do just that. Aspasia did not protest this act of service and headed downstairs to the kitchens to have it refilled by a man who seemed to know well where everything was. She walked back upstairs, thinking it was quite a lot of alcohol she was carrying, and if it could not possibly be the second refill.

She arrived upstairs and knocked on the door. Sibylla answered her and with the biggest smile on her face, she helped Aspasia settle the cask near the food. “Will you stay with us at this party?” Sibylla asked. “I notice the sour look on your face.”

Aspasia grimaced. She had eaten a meal earlier, and she had nothing else to do, but that did not mean she wanted to stay at the party. She searched Sibylla’s face to try to find a hint in her expression – what sort of answer was she expecting for her? Should Aspasia lie and remain to the party or tell the truth and retreat to a quieter place. Quite frankly, where else could she go? To little Baldwin? He was probably busy with his tutors. King Baldwin? She would rather not see him yet. He had kept Aspasia company the previous days, after all.

“Do you need me here for something else?” Aspasia said with an honest look on her face. “Please do not think ill of me, I just want to retreat somewhere else, have a bit more alone-time.”

Sibylla lost a bit of that smile but nodded. She would understand. Aspasia excused herself and walked away as a feminine voice called for Sibylla, having been gone missing for too long. Closing the door behind her and walking away, Aspasia headed to her rooms. Outside, the sky was turning blue and the last birds of the day could be heard chirping somewhere in the trees. She wondered how time flew by so quickly, not long ago, Aspasia was at church.

She heard the sound of a little voice coming through a room, not far from where she was standing. The adjacent room was a sort of office that led to the library of the palace. Many people used that place to work but it was Sunday and it was supposed to be empty. As Aspasia walked inside silently, she found little Baldwin playing with his figurines on a desk. He had set several manuscripts and various other items in such a way to imitate a fort. Behind him, on another table, was an actual model of the city of Jerusalem with all it’s walls and protection devices. The little prince had not touched it, perhaps he had been forbidden to do so. They seemed to belong to the King and served a specific purpose.

She was about to step inside the room to talk with the little prince when someone else did just that. She stopped from her tracks and remained hidden. The masculine figure wore a Templar’s uniform, perhaps having been on patrol during the day, and approached the little boy. “What are you playing with?”

From where she was standing, Aspasia watched Guy de Lusignan interact with his stepson, and she was ready to interfere. The little boy did not smile at the knight, but he explained to him how he liked the city’s model that belonged to the King and he wanted to play with it but was forbidden. Guy got down on his level and began explaining war tactics to the little boy. Aspasia’s eyebrows furrowed. This was not a typical display of a stepson and stepfather relationship. Guy was acting nice to the boy, but he obviously represented an obstacle to his goals.

Guy tried to make Baldwin speak but the prince would look down, and not say more than necessary. “Come on Baldwin,” jumped Aspasia, “you should be in bed by now.”

Both the prince and Guy jumped when they heard the young woman speak. The boy picked up his toys and headed to his rooms, head down. As he passed Aspasia, he gave her a small smile and disappeared in the corridors. Aspasia watched him walk away, then diverted her attention to Guy. She desperately wanted to mention the raid that had taken place with the Muslim caravan on the road to Jerusalem. Guy must have known something about it. She bit her lips, however, knowing that she would only ruin King Baldwin’s plans.

“There is nothing to worry about, lady,” Guy spoke in a patronizing tone, “I would not hurt a single hair on that boy’s head.”

“ _That boy_ needs to respect his bedtime,” Aspasia hissed, “and you should be either with your wife or with the Templar Order, not strolling around aimlessly.”

Guy reminded her of Akakios in many ways, but they differed in levels of intelligence – she had never expected to meet someone more stupid than Akakios, but apparently that was possible. Something about his presence at the castle irked everyone. In that aspect, she and Guy were quite similar.

“Right you are,” Guy said, “I shall leave for my rooms, in this case. My wife is hosting a party and I would not want to …”

As he began heading toward the door, he approached Aspasia. His hands caught a piece of her hair and attempted to play with the curls when Aspasia caught his fingers and cracked them. Guy immediately pulled back his hand and brought it close to him. He was about to slap her when Aspasia brought her hands up in defense, but Guy stopped.

He snickered under his breath and stepped around Aspasia, who so far, had not moved from the spot where she was standing. “You are lucky you are one of Sibylla’s and the King’s favorites … you know … But the King will not live long and Sibylla’s influence will not suffice to keep you safe. If I were you, I would watch my back constantly”

“Is that a threat? Because your Order has witnessed you commit many sins and I doubt they will tolerate you more than necessary.”

Guy raised an eyebrow. “You, young lady, know quite a lot about the Order.”

This made her blood curdle. As she said too much? She was cautious, after all. Guy was evidently not smart enough to figure out anything on his own, but Aspasia feared she had already given him a trail.

“Oh dear,” he laughed, “I caught you off guard, haven’t I?”

Whatever he was trying to do, it did not work. He had approached Aspasia a bit more closely than he should have, perhaps he was trying to seduce her like he did to countless other women. The thought of having his mouth anywhere near her repulsed her enough that she grabbed his already bruised hand and cracked the remaining fingers. She then hit his nose with the top of her head in a quick move, and Guy shouted in pain. He instantly let go of Aspasia and pushed her away from him, both his hands to his nose to stop the bleeding.

“Oh dear, I caught you off guard, haven’t i?” she mocked him. She tried to laugh as she repeated what he had said but could not manage to calm herself down. She raised both her hands in the air as if to show she was not going to strike again, walked around him and ran down the hallway. Guy had not followed her, but she stopped running only when she reached the princess’ rooms. Not far was the prince’s bedroom and she walked inside to check if he was asleep.

As she opened the door, she found the prince getting ready to sleep, a maid was helping him put on his night clothes. “Aspasia! Are you here to tell me a bedtime story?” he said almost excitingly. “Adila, my maid, would like to hear one too!” And too happily, he almost hugged the maid and begged her to stay to listen to the story. The woman laughed but Aspasia guessed she was busy and could not stay to listen to her stories.

Aspasia could not get herself to come up with anything. She felt her fist still trembling, the fresh images of Guy playing with her still in her head. “Baldwin, I am really sorry but not tonight.”

“What?”

“You have to learn how to go to sleep without having to listen to stories.”

“But why?”

Aspasia sighed. She thanked the maid for having helped him get ready and took over. She pulled the covers for Baldwin to get in bed and tucked him as she usually did. “I am not feeling up to the task to do that tonight, I am sorry.”

“Have you fallen ill perhaps?”

The little boy got up instantly, undoing the bed covers which Aspasia had just arranged for him, and tried to put his little palm on her forehead, as if to measure her temperature. Aspasia quickly picked him up in the air and threw him on his bed, evoking a laugh from the little boy.

“Seriously. Go to bed now,” she said in the most serious tone possible. “Your mother will not be happy to see dark circles under your eyes. Do you think the King of this castle asks for stories before he goes to bed? No, he does not. He just goes to bed on his own.”

“But my uncle likes stories just like me,” he protested.

“Oh, does he? Well, I am sure that he is capable of telling himself those stories, without the need of someone else telling them to him. Have you tried that? Telling yourself your own stories to go to sleep?”

She ruffled his hair and pulled the covers to his chin. She blew on the candles and the room got dark.

“Good night,” she wished him as he left. The prince wished her a good night as well and closed his eyes. As Aspasia closed the door behind her, she sighed, happy to have succeeded at avoiding another storytelling for the night. She tried to relax her body but still felt tense. Sibylla’s room was nearby, and the music that reached her ears was faint.

She massaged her forehead, a bit nervous. She recalled the countless times Sibylla held her parties. Most of the time, those involved alcohol, music and gossip. Perhaps even drugs, but Aspasia was not sure. She had rarely seen the princess put to bed her own son, and Aspasia was the one to tell him stories. It was as if the boy was raised by the maids, his tutor and Aspasia.

She headed back to Sibylla’s rooms and when she opened the door, she found the princess’s noble friends all chatting and drinking, while Aspasia was, as always, the center of attention. Sibylla saw Aspasia and almost shouted at her joyfully to join them when Aspasia refused flat out. The princess, surprised by the attitude of her friend, jumped to see her, a big smile on her face.

“Aspasia, you are always invited to these parties, but you never show up!”

Aspasia wore a blank expression that seemed to unsettle Sibylla.

“I dread those events,” she snapped, “I prefer quiet.”

Sibylla looked at her in shock. “How about we chat outside?” She spoke in a sweet voice but it was only meant to fool the guests. She put a hand on Aspasia’s back and forcefully led her outside. The princess closed the door behind and gave Aspasia a severe look. “Anything you want to tell me? I would like to solve it right now.”

“Yes, I do, in fact.”

Sibylla seemed surprised.

Aspasia crossed her arms over her chest and scratched the bridge of her nose. “I saw Guy earlier.”

“Yes?”

“Sibylla. You have to do something about it. This cannot work around indefinitely. He is here only because he is seeking power through you. Everyone here knows that. Do you think that sheds a good light on your relationship? You obviously love Balian and Balian loves you back. You two should be together, even your brother approves of him. Guy is a waste of space and of air and he would hurt your son if he could.”

“You are telling me things I already know.”

“You need to be more present for your son, Sibylla. You really do. How many times was it I who put him to bed? Told him stories? That is not my job, it is yours! And what are you doing? Hosting parties? For women who do not support you? Who sleeps with your husband behind your back? Is there anyone in here who you can trust, truly?”

“Aspasia, stop now.”

“You have to own up, Sibylla!! It pains me to tell you this, but you will most certainly outlive your brother. Look at him! Ill and bedridden but he fulfills his job as king! You ought to help him in any way you can! You ought to sit by his side and learn as much as you can, you are most probably going to lead Jerusalem in the following years, either through your son’s reign or your own!”

“Aspasia. Stop right now. I will not repeat myself.”

“LISTEN TO ME!” Aspasia exclaimed, almost interrupting her, “you have to take your role more seriously! This is not sustainable in the long run! Someone needs to tell you this! You know nothing about ruling, war or diplomacy! Nothing! You also need to take care of your son, be a mother to him!”

“SHUT UP ASPASIA YOU HAVE SAID ENOUGH.”

It was the first time Aspasia heard the princess scream. She was thankful the music was still playing otherwise everyone would have heard them.

“You have to learn to shut up! FOR ONCE! No wonder you get yourself in these situations, where you make only enemies but no friends!” Sibylla hissed angrily.

“I am telling you the truth! The truth is never pleasant to hear! Call me a buffoon, but I have nothing to win in telling you this! As a matter of fact, yes I suspect you want to tell me that this is none of my business! And you’re right! IT IS NOT! But still, I watch what you are doing from the side and notice how everything operates!”

“This is nor the right time nor the right way to speak to me!” shouted Sibylla louder, “it is very nice that you have an opinion, but that is all that is; an opinion.”

Aspasia threw her arms in the air. “You know what? Maybe I spoke too much. Maybe it is not my place to interfere. You heard me, you know what I believe, now you can do what you wish with that information. Really, I will go now. I will go.”

“Go. I do not want to see you.”

Aspasia stepped away, turning her face in the other direction to hide her teary eyes. The princess instantly walked back to the party, leaving Aspasia. It was a lesson to be learned. The royal family had a history of hundreds of years and things did not shift easily. It was foolish to believe an outside coming from an isolated country on the European continent could change their mind. The dynamics would not change unless they wanted it to change. Sibylla was going to indulge in her hedonistic ways, turn a blind eye to what her husband did and ignore her brother for as much as possible. Aspasia wanted to get away from the castle. Surely, no one would suspect her for running away at this point, which was the perfect opportunity to climb on a horse and leave in a hurry.

It was a very unhealthy way of coping with her problems, Aspasia realized: climbing on a horse and making a grandiose exit. She should have learned she never solved problems this way. When she was in Macedonia, she should have remained and solved her problems. Instead, she made them worse by killing Akakios and other assassins the Templars sent her way. She was doing the exact thing just now: climbing a horse and expecting to be gone for days.


	22. From One Heart to Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After having offended Sibylla, Aspasia makes a dramatic exit. She wanders aimlessly in the desert with her horse for three days, until Tiberias finally finds her and convinces her the right thing to do is to head back and to apologize to Sibylla.  
> While things with the princess seem to patch up, Aspasia learns that the King has heard about their quarrel and is very displeased with her. They have a heart to heart conversation.

Around three days Aspasia had spent in the desert, moving between a small town near the road and an oasis. She used what amount of coins she had to get food but remained near the oasis to stay isolated from the rest. She had spent days sitting under the shadow of a palm tree, ruminating about what had happened between her and the princess.

It pained her to think she had made the mistake of ruining a friendship – it was the only friend she had, with another woman who viewed her as her equal. It was, for this reason, Aspasia allowed herself to scream at the princess. She should not have done that. Whether Sibylla was her friend or not, she should have kept in mind the fact that they were part of two different groups in society.

Aspasia patted the horse as it chewed on its food. She had grown to resent society, people tended to make her angry and make stupid decisions that could easily be prevented. She had angered many others in the process of angering the princess. Tiberias and Balian must have been furious with her, a seed of doubt had been planted in her. Could she return to Jerusalem after this? Could she undo what she had said by apologizing? Things will perhaps not change between Sibylla and her son or Guy, but the consequences were not hers to bear. She thought of King Baldwin, and how he ruled a kingdom while suffering from his sickness. If Aspasia was in Sibylla’s position, she would have done everything in her power to take control of what she could and allow her brother to rest.

She fed the horse a carrot and laid her back against the palm tree. Could anyone confirm what Aspasia had claimed? If anyone would agree with her, perhaps the princess would not be so severe on her. Yet, no one would dare criticize the princess, not in the way Aspasia did.

“I have finally found you, Aspasia,” said a voice behind her.

She jumped on her feet, sleeves lifted, and hidden blades exposed. Several feet away stood Tiberias, without his cloak. He had his hands up as if to show he was not armed, and Aspasia put down her blades.

“Shit,” she cursed, “you scared the crap out of me.”

To that comment, Tiberias laughed a little. It was the first time he did not look so serious. Aspasia was not scared of him, but she told herself to be careful. Perhaps he had come after her to take her back to Jerusalem.

And as if he read her mind, he said: “I am not here to force you to do anything. May I sit with you?”

Aspasia scoffed. She invited him to sit under the shadow of the tree, and Tiberias brought his horse next to hers. Taking out from a bag he carried some meat and vegetables, he set the bag down and began a small fire.

“Are you going to camp with me or …”

Tiberias scoffed. “Everyone at the palace is worried about you. I was told to bring something to eat, you might have gotten hungry, after missing for three days.”

“Jesus fasted in the desert for forty days. I am convinced three days will do me no harm.”

Tiberias, nonetheless, prepared brochettes with the meat and vegetables. He set some rocks to hold the sticks and made himself comfortable on the ground. Aspasia had no choice but to sit down.

“You really should not have spoken that way to the princess.”

“If you came all the way here to tell me this, I am sorry to announce to you that I already know this.”

“I have never met anyone as stupid as you for talking like this to a princess,” he almost laughed.

“From the way you say it, it sounds like you somehow agree with me.”

Tiberias raised an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

There was a moment of silence between the two where only the sound of wood burning could be heard.

“Have you not tried to tell her anything?”

“Her own brother, her king, could not tell her that. He is in pain and has not asked for anything from his own sister. This does not mean he has not _thought_ about it, but it goes to show how Sibylla really does what she wants.”

“I am worried that this lifestyle will only lead her further away from the right path. Oh, Lord… I speak exactly like the King now.” Aspasia said, rubbing her eyes. It was the first time she ever thought about the ‘right path’. She was a bit of a hypocrite of saying this, having herself sinned in her past, but she could not allow others – good people – behave worst than her.

“This tends to happen when you spend a lot of time around him,” nodded Tiberias, “he is very wiser beyond his years.”

“Yes, I noticed …”

Tiberias checked her face for any sign of emotion. He found her sulking and sighed. “You know, he is very mad at you. If you apologized to Sibylla, I am sure this will appease him.”

“I doubt I will be welcomed back with open arms after what I told her. Even though others may say I told her the truth, I should not mingle in her personal life. Still, I am worried about the King and Sibylla’s son. They need her support more than anyone.”

The food on the stick was almost entirely cooked. Tiberias turned them so that both sides could be cooked evenly and a few minutes later, it was ready to be eaten. He gave Aspasia the first one to eat.

“Sibylla has always been like this,” began counting Tiberias, “she was raised away from the castle, in an abbey, by nuns, while her brother was taught by a private tutor. Sibylla was never interested in governing.”

“The problem is that all the women around her _are_ , and she is the only one who does not see that.”

Tiberias picked up his own stick and blew on the food to cool it off. He ripped piece by piece the meat and ate silently. “They are all worried about you,” Tiberias continued, “you have gone missing for three days. The prince believes he is at fault, for having insisted you tell him stories before bed.”

Aspasia laughed. “He is the most loveable little boy I have ever met,” she chuckled. “I guess I have no choice then…” Aspasia stood up and cleaned her hands using a handkerchief Tiberias was handing to her. “Lead the way, then.”

With that, Tiberias quickly packed his items, finished his food, and climbed on his horse. In a matter of hours, the two of them had reached the city gates. The sun was setting down and the air grew colder, but the streets were as busy as usual. From what Aspasia could guess, the crowd was agitated by another public execution. Some knights had been found guilty for having raided a caravan, but Aspasia could not tell if it was the same caravan she had found or another one. At this rate, the war was guaranteed, and the King could do nothing to suit Saladin. Tiberias noticed the agitation but paid no attention to it. On his horse, he led Aspasia through the crowd and toward the palace gates.

Two guards had opened the doors and allowed them in. Servants arrived to help them take the horses to the stables and Aspasia was about to head to her rooms when Tiberias put a hand on her shoulder. It was his way of saying she could not head back to her apartment until she apologized to the princess. Aspasia sighed, shoulders were down, but she walked behind Tiberias as they headed to the Princess’ quarter.

The sound of their footsteps was heard by a little body who ran to meet them. The little prince grinned from one year to another when he saw Aspasia and jumped in her arms, hugging her with his little arms. “WHY DID YOU GO? WHY WERE YOU GONE? IS IT BECAUSE OF ME?” he cried loudly in her ears.

She shushed him and hugged him back. Baldwin did not seem to care that she smelled of sweat and was tired. She reassured him he did nothing wrong and that she promised to tell him more stories in the future. The prince insisted on holding her by the hand as she headed to talk to Sibylla because he wanted to protect her, but Tiberias sent him a grave look, and the prince did not insist further. He placed himself behind Tiberias and watched Aspasia head to the princess’ rooms.

Aspasia knocked on the door and a voice told her to walk in. Sibylla was on the balcony, a maid was with her, doing her a henna tattoo on her hands. The princess seemed almost happy to see Aspasia but did not smile. The young woman stared deeply at her, making her feel uncomfortable.

“I … suppose this is the part where I apologize,” said Aspasia.

“Yes, I believe an apology is due.”

“Right, well… I have to be honest and tell you that I will not take anything of what I said back. I am sorry I was not diplomatic in the delivery, but this is truly what I believe, Sibylla. You are my best friend; I have never been so close to anyone and I am really sorry I hurt your feelings. I should have been more delicate in the way I said it but the truth is that I was not feeling my best that day. Really, is there anything I can do to repair what I undid?”

Sibylla sighed, a small smile on her lips. “That was a proper apology, it is good enough.” She invited Aspasia to sit down next to her and to get henna as well, but she refused politely. “You were right about what you said. I am truly tired of feeling powerless. What you said about Guy and Balian is a bit trickier, believe it or not.”

“In what sense?”

She shrugged. “We are talking about power and military right now. My brother needs the Templar’s support when we fight against Saladin, and the Vatican wants control over the region. We have to compromise. Balian is perhaps the best option to become King but he is not one who covets power.”

There was a moment of silence between the two women where they both followed with their eyes the hand of the maid as she did the henna.

“My brother is angry with you,” Sibylla said almost sadly, “I have not seen him get angry like this for a silly matter for a long time.”

Shifting her weight from one leg to the other, Aspasia spoke: “well, it was very rude of me to speak to you like that. I understand why he would feel like this. Is there any hope for me to repair things with him?”

Sibylla shrugged her shoulders. “Head to his apartments and speak to him. He really cares about you so I am convinced you can improve the situation by talking to him.”

This was Aspasia’s cue to leave the Princess’ rooms and head to meet with the King. A small glimpse of hope was in sight. If the got angry with her, it was because she mattered. Feeling a little bit of hope, she left the balcony, left the room and headed to the King’s apartments. On her way out, she noticed Tiberias as no longer standing there, perhaps had he left to attend other matters? She assumed he had gone to meet with the king and let him know of Aspasia’s return.

As she walked across the corridors, her thoughts became more and more filled in anxiety. She wracked her brain, trying to find the right words to say and attempted to repeat them over and over to herself. Perhaps the King would just give her a piece of advice and let her go with a warning. He was wise, as Tiberias had confirmed. He was also too weak to get up, scream at her and scold her indefinitely. It brought her consolation that she would not be humiliated.

When she arrived there, she knocked on the familiar doors of his apartments and awaited instruction. The doors opened to her, a servant indicated her to walk in, and as she walked in, the servant walked out, a medical kit underneath his armpit. Was it one of his physicians? She watched the man walk away and turned her attention to the main room. The space was quiet, amidst the wind that blew on the curtains.

She stepped inside and found the King sitting on an armchair, elbow on the armrest and head resting on his knuckles. He adjusted his posture to stand straighter and turned his head to see Aspasia. “Take a seat.”

Direct and cold. This was a bad sign.

She paused for a second, wondering why she was pulled by an invisible force to obey him.

“I said take a seat,” he repeated.

Aspasia sighed lowly. The King must have heard her but did not comment on it. She clenched her fists and sat on the canopy right in front of him. He wore his white clothes, they smelled fresh, after having been washed. His mask remained impartial, which was what terrified Aspasia the most. She was used to being able to read other people and use that to her advantage, but the King wore an artificial face. His eyes were cast down – even that, she could not read.

They sat there for a moment, intense moment, where none of them said anything. Aspasia waited anxiously for him to say something. She wanted to say something but feared it would be the wrong thing to do. The contrary was also true: not saying anything could also project a bad image of her. She massaged her own palms and breathed heavily, trying to dissipate this awkward silence.

“How long are we going to stare at each other?” she asked.

This did not appease him. Not the slightest.

“If I were you, I would watch what I would say.”

“I was told by Tiberias and Sibylla, a long time ago, that I will await punishment for what I did. Perhaps you could combine it with the punishment now that –“

“ – STOP IT.”

“Alright, alright … I was just throwing ideas out there…”

Aspasia sighed, then let her head fall behind her. She relaxed in the canopy and looked at King Baldwin, who since now, had not moved a single muscle.

“You know, it is very torturous to keep my punishment awaiting like this.”

The King did not seem surprised Aspasia kept talking. It was meant to be one of those situations where she shut up and listened but Aspasia may have missed that information.

“What are you talking about?”

Aspasia shrugged.

“I was supposed to receive a punishment. I just want to have it already and get it over with. This has been going on for a long time now.”

There was a moment of silence coming from the King. “There is no punishment coming ahead.”

Aspasia blinked. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I said.”

“Huh?”

She pushed her body up to sit straight. She leaned in as if it would help her hear the King better.

“I have judged you had already learned your lesson.”

“I am sorry, but I am lost.”

“I knew about Phillip and about you long before you and I met. If you had been chosen by Sibylla to teach her Greek and to teach her how to defend herself, it is because Sibylla took a liking in you and I saw no purpose of punishing or executing you. You are far more valuable alive than dead.”

Her mouth was agape. The King would have told her to close her trap but decided against it. Aspasia was at a loss for words.

“Wait, but that means,” Aspasia realized little by little, “you were behind all of this? Did you decide to have me free? Not Sibylla?”

“Call it unfair if you wish, but I tend to be less severe when it comes to women who commit crimes. I believed you could turn your life around, from what I heard about you. You can thank Sibylla for having given you this possibility to become her private tutor.”

Aspasia looked at the floor. She would have cried – perhaps of anger. Again, she had been tricked by someone else, when she thought she was the one who was one step ahead. It was humiliating. What else did he know about her? Has he heard of the insults she has thrown while in prison? The ones where she claimed he would not live long enough, so he was not worth saving from Phillip?

The King looked at her in silence, almost scrutinizing her face for any hint of emotion. She was far more reactive than he thought she was going to be. He would normally console a crying woman, but Aspasia needed to be taught a lesson differently. He leaned in, elbows on his knees for support, and Aspasia instantly covered her face. He was unsure if she was crying at this point, but she was visibly shaken.

“Why did you run away three days ago? Where were you?”

Aspasia shook her head, her face still was hidden in the palm of her hands.

“I do not want to talk about it,” she mumbled, but her voice was muffled.

“Pardon?”

“I do not want to talk about it,” she said more clearly.

“Aspasia.”

“What?”

“Aspasia. Look at me.”

Aspasia looked up. Her face, having been covered by her hands, was slightly pink. She almost looked up against heart.

“You cannot disappear like this. If you do, we are under no obligation to welcome you back.”

“I only came back because Tiberias was sent to fetch me.”

“We were worried about you.”

She puffed. “You know very well I am capable of defending myself, there is no point in worrying about me.”

“You have to understand that I cannot allow people to speak about my family the way you did. You made valuable points but if I permit you to do so, everyone will jump in, and for someone like Sibylla, to be in such a vulnerable position, I cannot allow that.”

Aspasia nodded. “I understand that. I am really sorry.”

“Are you?”

Aspasia looked up. “Yes, of course, I am. You do not believe me?”

“You are supposed to be our ally, Aspasia. I fight enemies every day. Sometimes these enemies come in the shape of Muslim warriors, sometimes they are disguised as knights who covet my sister and my kingdom. I cannot come home and fight another one.”

This was way worse than she had imagined. Aspasia anticipated to be scolded, but now she truly felt guilty. It felt almost like treason. King Baldwin had always been so kind to her, he was saint-like, and Aspasia knew ever since she met him that crossing him would bring her a strong sense of shame. This was almost like a trick he was pulling on her – making her realize that she truly wanted to be on his side – was worse than the scolding she expected.

“I am your ally,” Aspasia insisted. She quickly got off her seat and approached the King. She got on her knees next to his chair and attempted to take his hand, but he pulled it away. “I am your ally, I really am. We are on the same team. I said I am sorry. The words I said, I meant them. I am not taking anything back. I do regret the way I spoke to Sibylla, that I would change. Please, don’t be mad at me any longer, I am really sorry.”

She attempted once again to take his bandaged hand into hers, but he pulled away and faced the other direction. Aspasia felt this almost like a rejection. The King must have noticed the pain in her expression. His shoulders relaxed a little bit, but he did not add anything. Aspasia told herself he was doing this because of his disease, but his hand was completely wrapped, therefore his disease could not be transmitted to her.

“Perhaps I should go to my rooms for the evening…”

“I am not done talking.”

Aspasia puffed in exasperation. At this point, she felt as if she was the child and the King was the parent who scolded her. She was getting tired and the King could see it by the way she behaved. She stood up and sat back on her canopy, one leg over the other and arms crossed, against her knee.

“I know you Aspasia, and I saw potential in you. I really did. Even before we have met. You may be reckless, but you are talented and you have a fiery spirit. We have spoken about going on the right path, have we not? When I saw you came to church with us … it really confirmed it.”

Did he saw her at church? She did not recall him looking at her, nor in her direction, at the very least.

“You were really making progress. You have made many enemies in the past – you said so yourself. So do not make enemies out of Sibylla, out of Tiberias, out of me.”

“That was not my intention…” she said, whipping away the first tear that formed in the corner of her eyes.

She forbade herself from crying in front of the King. She would cry after maybe, in her room, but not now.

“Don’t go making enemies when it is not necessary.”

This sounded more like a piece of advice. Aspasia nodded her head and mumbled ‘understood.’ She glanced at him but felt his eyes set on her and it was too much, so she looked back down.

The King continued: “You will not see me make this kind of lecture to other people… I was incredibly worried when I heard you ran away, I really was. Don’t do that ever again, please. I care about you a lot Aspasia; it would pain me to hear that harm has been done to you.”

Her heart palpitated rapidly in her chest. _No way …_ she thought to herself. There was no way to describe what she was feeling inside. It was the first time for her. King Baldwin may have not been intentional in the way he made her feel but nonetheless, his words made an effect on her.


	23. Future and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Aspasia, it is hard to get past the awkward feeling whenever she sees the King.

Conveniently, there was no need for Aspasia to interact with the King the following days.

She was glad that was the case: she would have not known how to behave around him. The days at the castle were spent alongside Sibylla who was very keen on learning how to use a weapon. Aspasia would have protested that the princess was not ready yet to take that next step, but she had to satisfy her student. It would not have mattered if Aspasia agreed to teach her to use a sword or not; Sibylla would have found a way to learn how.

And for a few days, every morning, the two women would meet for their sword practice. Aspasia wanted to ask her why not simply ask Balian to teach her – he was very apt for the job and would quite frankly be glad someone acknowledged his skills. She could imagine Sibylla would reply something along the lines of ‘I am more comfortable doing that with another woman than a man.’ It made sense to her; during her time in Macedonia, she had practiced fighting among men, and many were very tactless and impatient. They would not wait for her to catch up to them and leave her behind. One of the first things she learned was to not whine, because no one cares about how hard training was for her or in how much pain she was. Aspasia assumed that perhaps that was due because no one had sympathy for her, in reality.

One day, Sibylla let Aspasia know that she would be gone for a few days. The former hoped to travel to Kanna, and so their classes would be set for another time. This worried Aspasia because that meant she would be having a lot of free time on her hands. So far, she had not spoken again to the king, and if he heard that she was free of her duties, there was the possibility that he would request her help.

The second day came by and Aspasia stood at the gates to say goodbye to the princess. Sibylla was accompanied by her maid, Adila, and their guards followed them closely. Something in Sibylla’s eyes showed a faint sign of happiness. The princess moved lightly like a feather. Aspasia squinted her eyes, doubting she was truly heading to Kanna. As Aspasia held Sibylla’s horse in place, Sibylla used the young woman to support her body weight. She was about to climb her horse when Aspasia stopped the princess. Placing a hand on top of hers and pulling her closer, Aspasia attempted to whisper something in the princess’ ear. The guards and the maid had their eyes on them but could not hear anything from where they were standing. “Are you sure it is safe to head south? After the raids that had taken place earlier this week and how close it is near the Muslim borders…” explained Aspasia.

The princess smiled and sighed. Of course, Aspasia would have seen through her lie. “There is nothing to worry about,” responded the princess, “I will have my guards and Balian by my side. Besides, the Templar will not dare attack me.”

Next to her, Sibylla’s maid was already straddling her own horse. Sighing, Aspasia took a step back to allow Sibylla to climb her horse. With the reins in her hands, she guided the horse to the gates. In a few moments, the princess, alongside her maid and a handful of knights, were out the palace grounds and heading toward Ibelin. Aspasia stood there for a bit, watching the princess disappear in the background before returning inside the palace. There was a lump in her throat, similar to what she was feeling when she had arrived on the Holy Land by ship. Aspasia would have to keep herself busy for the days that were coming ahead. If not, Tiberias would have put her to work. She wished she could have had someone to talk to. Her first thought was the prince, but Baldwin was busy during the day with classes. He had his tutors taking care of him more than his own mother did. She grew curious to what topics Baldwin was studying at such a young age. His education must have been so different than hers. Her thoughts wandered to his role as the future king. At this point, it was unclear who would inherit the throne, it could be him or his mother. One thing she knew for sure was that she was glad she had reconciled with the family, otherwise she would have had problems in the future.

As she walked across Sibylla’s garden, listening to the silence around, she noticed Tiberias was speaking to the representative sent by Saladin. This time, the man looked a bit better, his mood lifted, and more open to discussing. It seemed to her that Tiberias had managed to negotiate peace with the messenger. This would appease Saladin would be appeased. Who knew for how long could peace be kept between the neighbouring kingdoms?

The state representative and Tiberias shook hands and Tiberias walked the man to his horse. Near the gates, other soldiers with their horses had gathered to escort the man to Muslim lands. Tiberias noticed Aspasia standing there and let her know with a hand gesture that he would be attending her soon. Aspasia waited for him to bid them farewell, and the gates closed as soon as they had made their exit.

Hands on his hips, Tiberias walked to Aspasia, and he amicably put a hand on her shoulder. “Did Sibylla leave for Kanna yet?”

Aspasia raised an eyebrow. “Do you honestly believe that this was where she was heading?”

Tiberias puffed. “From the tower where I was, it did look like a group of horsemen had left toward the south gate…”

They walked through the gardens and headed inside the palace. Aspasia was not too sure where they were marching to, but it soon appeared they were heading to his office. “Am I still part of your initiative to find Phillip or am I excluded at this point?” She asked.

“Can we not talk about this right now? At least wait until we reach my office.”

She bit her tongue this time. “As you wish.” When they finally reached his office, after what seemed like an eternity, Tiberias invited her to take a seat and opened a wine bottle. Aspasia accepted a glass. “You cannot seriously believe this is over,” continued Aspasia, “I may not have known Phillip well, but I saw that he was committed to accomplishing his goal. Maybe they are already sending other people right this instant to come our way.”

“The King is very safe within the palace walls, Aspasia.”

“And is it even safe to allow Sibylla to leave? Right now? I would feel better knowing I was there for them both, but unfortunately, I cannot split in two and protect them at the same time.”

“Leave the protection of Sibylla to Balian. She is safe in Ibelin. As for the King, as I said, he is safe within the walls of the castle. You know, if you insist on this, and if your worries are justified, I could always assign you the role of one of his personal guards.”

Of course, that last part was a joke. Still, Aspasia felt almost like he had thrown a punch at her. She tried to laugh it off. Laughing was the only solution because openly refusing it would only show that there was some bad blood between them – which was not the case.

Tiberias noticed her prolonged pause, perhaps sensed her hesitation, and sighed. “Did you fight with King Baldwin too?”

“What? Absolutely not!” Aspasia was baffled. “Not at all!”

“Then why this sullen face?”

“You put me in awkward positions, with your assumptions.”

“Well, if you did nothing wrong, you have nothing to worry about… Look, I am sure the King had found the right words to get through your thick skull some valuable life lessons. You have to move on from this and get back to normal.”

He was right. Aspasia thought about what was normal to her. Lately, her life had been spiralling out of control. She tried to think of her life in the future. Where would she be? What would she do? It was almost as difficult as picturing the future of the kingdom. The constant threats of war could predict only great shifts in politics.

“What are you thinking about?” Asked Tiberias.

Aspasia shrugged her shoulders. “About the future,” she remained vague purposefully.

“The future of what? You? The country?”

“Both,” she giggled, thinking it was funny how Tiberias had guessed correctly. Tiberias sat at his desk and began cleaning the stacks of documents that had accumulated. Aspasia watched his movements, and her eyes glossed over the papers. Many had the royal seal on it, perhaps they were destined to the Kingdom of France and to the Vatican.

“Have you given any thought to what you want to do with your life? You do not hope to remain Sibylla’s private tutor for the rest of your life, after all.”

“Funny, those were my exact thoughts. I do not have an answer to that if I am honest.”

“You should think about a way to make a living. Perhaps also look for a house in the city. Unless you wish to return to your home country at some point.”

“There is nothing there for me,” she admitted. There was a short moment where both of them were quiet. Aspasia noted that Tiberias seemed a bit uncomfortable. He feared he had touched upon a sensitive topic and Aspasia would not be willing to develop her idea.

She thought to herself that maybe joining an Order of knights would put her skills to use. There was this risk that her past would be exposed or that history may repeat itself. Perhaps joining the army was not the lifestyle that suited her the most. It also sounded impossible because she only joined the Templars because of her father. No one else would have allowed that exception. And having fought and trained all her life, with no one else to welcome her back home, it was a depressing lifestyle which she did not want to continue.

“Have you thought about getting married perhaps?” Tiberias suggested. It almost came out of the blue. “This way, you will not need to start all over. Your wealth will be combined with the one of your spouse.”

“I … am afraid I am not very much made for the role of a wife.”

“Yes, well, I would be happy to assign you to a tutor to help you change … your whole character. Sibylla’s half-sister, Isabella - I think you met her in the past - has some good tutors. I am sure they can teach you on –“

“- I am sorry Tiberias but I am too old at this point to even care about learning about music, poetry and dance. Besides, there is no purpose for me to learn such skills if I have other things to offer.”

“What other skills are you referring to?”

Aspasia scratched her forehead. “I can fight, ride a horse, use various weapons, and I have some basic knowledge in medicine, especially in regard to wounds inflicted in battle.”

“Then what about a physician?”

“Does that not require years of training?” she asked.

“I suppose you could always become an assistant to one, or at least become a physician for women. Many women would prefer to be treated by one, rather than a male physician. Many hospitals would accept any help, it would be easy for you to find a place where you can work.”

“I do not know… I doubt I have the patience or the will to start all over. I might as well become a nun, in that case. Why do we have to come up with a solution now, anyway? There is no rush.”

Maybe Tiberias sensed how discouraged Aspasia was becoming.

Their conversation had been paused for the sound of someone approaching had caught their attention. Tiberias stood up from his chair and Aspasia was prompted to do the same. In the door frame appeared the familiar cloaked figure of the King. “Your Highness,” spoke Tiberias first, “if I recall it correctly, your physicians had forbidden you to leave your apartments.”

“I need to walk and stretch my body too, once in a while,” the King answered, “otherwise my limbs will turn to stone.” The King greeted the two of them, and Tiberias ran at his side to set him another chair. Aspasia stood up, wanting to give up her seat to the King. It was the most comfortable one Tiberias had in his office. The King quickly put his hand up and stopped her. He accepted the cushion Tiberias handed him and placed it against the back of his chair.

“With the Patriarch finally back,” the King continued, “I guess that implies another set of hands and eyes to help us, but more work on the table.”

Tiberias laughed at the remark. From what Aspasia understood, the Patriarch had brought a new set of problems. “How have you been getting along with him?” Tiberias asked the King.

There was a moment of silence. The King turned his head slightly sideways as if trying to word his thoughts the best way possible. No answer was an answer. Aspasia suspected there was a feud between them. It seemed to her that men were perhaps just as dramatic as women, in the end. “It has been going quite well. We have accomplished some work. My wish is for it to continue like this for a long period of time.”

“You both share a common enemy. Why are you not friends, at least over this?”

Who was Tiberias referring to? Saladin? From what Aspasia knew, the Patriarch did not deal with foreign affairs. His contact with Muslim leaders and politicians was limited. The other possible answer, an enemy to the king, was Guy de Lusignan. It was unclear to Aspasia how he would be an enemy to the Patriarch, however.

The King laughed quietly to himself. Tiberias did not insist any further on this issue, due to Aspasia’s presence in the room. The young woman was aware that some of the information was not meant for her ears. The King relaxed in his seat and spoke: “have I interrupted your discussion?”

“Not at all. We were just talking about Aspasia’s future,” answered Tiberias.

“Oh, really?” The King focused this time on Aspasia.

She had no idea if her cheeks had turned red, but she felt herself get small, with shoulders slouching, head hanging low and gaze cast down. Now that she was the subject of the conversation, all their eyes were set on her. Quite frankly, she was not comfortable yet to talk to the King amicably. Their discussion a few nights ago was still fresh in her mind.

“We were speaking of giving her a refined education or teaching her a valuable skill for her to make a living off of it. Hopefully, I will also find her a husband.”

“A husband? Why not…” said the King pensively, and quickly, he added, as if to appease her: “but only if the lady wishes to.”

Aspasia nodded her head, appreciating that her own interests and wishes were taken into consideration.

The conversation about Aspasia was dropped at that. No one insisted any further, no one mentioned anything else. Still, there was no resolution, and the topic would be brought up in the future again, most likely when Sibylla would be back.

Tiberias started explaining to the king what happened that day with the Sultan’s representative. Before he had left the palace, they had made a deal. It seemed that the King was happy the issue had been resolved, as he too had been part of the negotiation plan and offered a sum of money from the treasury.

They went on about how to deal with Guy the best way possible. This whole issue could be traced back to a knight of the Temple Order named Reynald de Chatillon, whom Aspasia has never heard of. From what she could observe, the king and Tiberias were not secretive about this issue because they did not ask Aspasia to leave. She took a chance to ask them questions, seeing she was permitted to interfere. “I am sorry, but could you tell me more about Reynald de Chatillon? Is he another nobleman sent from France?”

“He was the prince of Antioch, but his lands have been taken by the Muslim during war and he was kept a prisoner. We had managed to negotiate his safe return, but he is now a lord without lands. It seems he and Guy get along quite well, and that is not a good combination.”

“I do not understand how that is wrong,” argued Aspasia, “is he a troublemaker, like Guy?”

Tiberias was about to continue when the King raised his hand to interrupt him. He looked at Aspasia and continued: “he lost his lands when the Muslims won the war, so he has been trying to marry into another noble family. At some point, he had joined forces with Guy and the Templar. That man knows no shame – he had been causing me problems with the Muslims in the past, raiding caravans for no purpose, and had knocked on the door of the Byzantine Empire and embarrassed himself in front of their Emperor.”

“There is clearly a long history with him,” Aspasia noted. “Should we not deal with them before they cause any further problems for the kingdom?”

The king laughed. This came as a shock to Aspasia. She always expected him to remain serious when the discussion was about important matters. But then, she felt stupid for thinking she would be able to bring insight to the situation. Tiberias and the King had dealt with these same issues for years. “If only things were that simple,” said the king, leaning back even further in his seat. “I have thought about it but there is no way I can get rid of him without causing fury among the Order.”

Tiberias sat back at his desk and began to unfold documents and letters. Aspasia realized he was leaving her to continue carrying on the discussion without him. There was nothing she wanted to say to the king, and even if she did, she feared it would bore him more than anything. The king would have no choice but to pretend that whatever she was saying was interesting and nod his head at her.

His face remained impartial, but it must have been due to the mask. Maybe with time, Aspasia would gain the ability to read him. His eyes were the only thing that was expressive – he conveyed a bit of anticipation as if he waited for her to ask more questions and expand on her thoughts. Her response never came, however.

Her cheeks turned slightly red for he looked at her for a bit too long. She diverted her attention elsewhere, looking at Tiberias in hopes he would interfere. The latter had not noticed Aspasia's tacit plea for help, but he looked up from his work and spoke to the King:

“Have you eaten yet, your majesty?” Tiberias noted that it was around the time. “I will be heading soon back to my estate and eat there.”

Before the king could reply, the trio was interrupted by a servant who had just arrived. The servant looked at the King, bowed his head slightly, and spoke in Arabic. “I suppose that means I have to go,” said the King, standing up from his seat.

“Where are you going?” Aspasia asked.

The king turned his head in her direction. “Just to take my medicine. I will then head back to work. It was nice talking to you.”

Tiberias’ eyes travelled between the King and Aspasia, and he called the King back: “perhaps, your majesty, if you require assistance for your work, I can have Aspasia help you.”

The King stopped from his tracks and thought about it. “I am not sure I require any assistance, but I could have some tasks for you to accomplish… You can come by my apartments in a short while.” The last part, he said it directly to Aspasia.

With the servant, the King left to his rooms. Aspasia sighed and stood up from her chair as well. “I suppose I should go to eat before heading there to meet him.”

“Good idea. You would not want to head there with an empty stomach. And remember to behave yourself. Perhaps I should not have given you a glass of wine, if I knew you would join the King.”

Ignoring his snarky remark, Aspasia headed out to eat. After eating, she headed to her room to take bath and change clothes. When she was about to leave, a maid came with a ribbon to help her tie her hair. As she did her braid, Aspasia’s eye looked at her jewelry box on the table. Inside, she had placed her hidden blades and the small jewel she had picked up from Akakios. With sleeves long enough, she could hide the gauntlets inside easily.

The jewel was the only item in the box that truly belonged to her. The rest were just gifts given to her by the royal palace, but she was convinced that, if she were to leave, she would not be allowed to take them. When the maid was finished, she smiled at Aspasia and left her. Aspasia deliberated if she should take the items with her. Perhaps she should do that - they were not heavy, nor bothersome, and she felt safer knowing that she carried them on her. She decided to take them.

On her way out, she closed the doors and headed to meet with the King. After walking across the castle, she found herself standing in front of the two large doors that led to the royal apartments. She was received by the same servant who has come to fetch the King. She found him seated at his desk, sorting out different parchment papers. The servant who came in to give him his medicine just left with his medical equipment underneath his arm.

“You finally came,” the King said. He quickly stood up and began searching his desk for paperwork. He set some documents on one corner of the desk and brought to Aspasia some tools. “I am happy you joined me; I will need your help here, just like last time…”

Aspasia sat down on her assigned chair. Over her shoulder, the King explained to her what she was to do. Over a long period, while the King read documents and made rulings over cases, Aspasia would stamp the documents and classify them. Then, when she was done with that, she was instructed to set them in their respective envelopes and set them for a servant to have them delivered.

Her rhythm was much faster than last time. She understood since the beginning what she was supposed to do. As she placed them in their envelope, she noticed many of them had a special seal, perhaps a specific delivery. Were they not related to matters that had to do with the kingdom? She did not look into the documents, deeming it would not be her place to do so.

Time passed quickly. The sky had gotten darker before Aspasia realized it. She was grateful they had worked in silence. She would have hated to put up a conversation and pretend she was interested in talking. The feelings of guilt and shame from their discussion a few nights ago resurfaced to her mind. She was barely capable of looking at him in the eyes, she kept having an odd feeling, almost of fear, in her stomach, for an unknown reason.

Briefly, Aspasia turned her head to look at the King. He was so engrossed in his work. Both of them had been so busy they had not noticed the servant who entered the room earlier to bring them a cool drink and had left it on a table.

She stood up and checked to see how the tea was. It was still cool, but almost room temperature. If only they had noticed it earlier in the afternoon when it had been just placed. She used a towel to wipe away the small droplets of water that had formed on the outside of the cold cup and spoke for the first time in a few hours: 

“My King?”

“Mhm?”

Aspasia placed one of the cups she picked from the tray in front of the king. He looked up and nodded his head. With respect, she turned her back and pretended to be interested in his bookshelf. This gave him enough time to lift his own mask and drink without worrying she would see his face. She heard him drink, then place the cup on the table and adjust his mask. She turned around slowly and found him setting his veil back. “Are you good to continue?” the King asked her. He must have noticed the expression in her eyes. Aspasia wanted to complain about how tired she felt but feared it would not be appropriate. The King laughed, however, and she dropped her shoulders as she relaxed. “That was meant to be a joke.”

“Oh…”

“I understand that you are tired. We did a lot of work, today. If you wish to retreat for the night, you may do so.”

“I would like to do that, yes. But will you also go to sleep, or will you continue?”

“I think…” He looks over his shoulder briefly to a pile of papers, “I will try to work as much as I can before heading to sleep.”

Aspasia sighed. “I suppose that in this case, I will stay up a bit longer to help you.”

“You do not have to, Aspasia.”

“It is fine. If we work together and focus, we can finish it quickly.”

She almost sat back on her chair when something in her ears fluttered. She froze, and the king noticed it and froze as well. His eyes on her face to discern any emotions. She set her cup quietly on the table and turned her head slightly. Most of the lights were out, only a few candles around the desk were lit.

“What is it-”

“-Shush.”

She indicated to him to take a step back, and the King obeyed her. She pushed him to hide, and in absolute silence, he pointed his finger to a cabinet before he hid underneath the desk. There, on top of it, was placed a longsword for exposition. It looked like it had survived a battle in the past and served as a trophy today. Aspasia nodded her head and picked it up. Her hand tightened around the handle, then she brought her wrists close to her, her left hand lightly touching the gauntlet on her right hand. She took a step forward, towards the balcony, where something had caught her attention.


	24. Intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the King's life is put in danger by an intruder, Aspasia steps up and acts as a personal guard. She quickly realizes that perhaps the King was not the initial target.

Aspasia approached the balcony at a silent and steady pace.

As she stepped outside, a soft night breeze blew, messing her hair slightly. Behind her, the King had taken a step back and remained silent. She looked around. There was nothing outside. No one in sight. She bent over the balcony slightly to see if there was anyone there.

Something was wrong.

She was sure she had heard something.

There should have been guards patrolling the perimeter. Where were they? Someone must have knocked them out.

She turned around, alarmed. The King was not safe there. She had to get him away and deal with the danger herself. Aspasia was about to shout an order when a dark figure jumped from above and landed in front of her. The attacker wrapped his hands on her throat and attempted to push her over the baluster, but she held with all her might to the bars.

Almost no air could pass through her lungs.

The King was about to run to her and rip the enemy away from her body. Aspasia began to panic. Under no circumstances should he have left that dark spot in the room. She had to do whatever she could to get the enemy off of her.

She managed to kick the enemy in the knee, first in the knee, then in the tibia. His grip weakened and she pushed him away.

Hidden blades out, she jumped on him, but the intruder jumped on the side, and she missed her target. The blades sunk into the carpeted floor - Aspasia was momentarily stuck. She pulled them out and then searched for the enemy with her eyes.

She realized for the first time he was masked, a simple and rough design that combined metal and leather. The holes where there were eyes were entirely black – perhaps a thin piece of fabric had been placed there to hide the eye colour, or the lights and shadows played tricks on her.

He grabbed her by the neck once again. His hands were placed close to her jaw, and he pushed her to the ground. Her back hit the floor with a loud sound. She instantly searched for the sword with her hand. She must have dropped it earlier not far from there.

The attacker noticed how she searched for the weapon. He immediately intercepted her and attempted to pin her against the wall behind.

“Urgh!” Aspasia groaned. She blocked his attack with her hands. He was far stronger than she was. His technique was impeccable. Could she really be a match for him? As long as she distracted him from getting to the king.

Kick, kick, punch.

She pulled him close and stretched out her leg high enough to kick him in the face. She then spun her whole body on that leg and kicked him with the other.

The intruder fell on the ground. Aspasia bent over, hugging her stomach. “Shit, shit, shit.” This was the furthest she has ever stretched out her leg. The pain was sharp and came from all her joints, but it did not matter. She attempted to ignore the pain as best as she could and turned her head toward the King. He stood in the same spot, eyes wide open, but ready to interfere. “Don’t move.”

He did not move, but that did not mean he will comply to everything. She could already see herself being scolded for having barked orders at him. The thought left her mind as quickly as it crossed it.

She then bolted toward the sword as it laid on the carpet, near the balcony. A pair of hands had caught her. She tripped on the ground. A big body hovered over her and attempted to strangle her. She planted a hidden blade in the upper arm. There was no scream of pain, but the grip had loosened up.

Aspasia pulled a punch in the face and tried to reverse the roles: she jumped to his neck and provoked him to fall on his back. The same way he attempted to strangle her, she strangled him, when he pulled out a small dagger he had kept hidden inside his coat. She was furious. She was fuming.

“ _Ai gamisou_! When are you going to give up??” she snapped angrily, “give me that dagger!!”

Did the man understand her when she spoke Greek? It was unclear to her. He pushed her aside and was ready to stab her in the shoulder with the dagger. Aspasia crossed her arms out above her head and blocked the attack. Her body trembled as she attempted to resist. She sensed he was soon going to overpower her. She had to do something quickly and use his force and speed against him.

She crouched, in the process pushing the lower half of her assailant’s body, and the attacker hit a wall behind with a loud sound. The dagger was stuck in a wooden shelf. The assailant desperately tried to get it back in time. She did not waste another second. She grabbed him by the back of his collar and pulled him away from the dagger. The man fell on his back, stomach exposed. She tried to stab him there with the hidden blade, but he was quick to duke the attack.

She felt her breath ragging, panting like she did after a tough training session. It was due to the mixture of physical effort and emotions. She was growing tired, lacking strength in her arms, but there was no other option for her. “Here we go again…” she spoke to herself.

The attacker stood several feet away from Aspasia, his back turned to the King. Good. He was going to ignore the King as long as Aspasia was going to remain on her two feet. She had to defeat him quickly. She had no idea if the man was alone in this attack and if it was safe to tell the King to run.

“What the fuck do you want?? Huh?? You don’t talk??” She spat. She kicked an object that had fallen on the ground in the intruder’s direction. He caught it before it hit his face and dropped it to the ground.

It felt for a moment like she was wining.

She was too quick to believe that – the fight was not over. The attacker was standing next to a table. He pushed all the items on it to the ground, then kicked it with all his strength, leaving out a ‘mpfh!’ sound out.

Aspasia ran to catch the table before it would fall on her feet and pushed it aside with a lot of difficulty.

“Watch out!” the King shouted at her.

Looking up, she saw the man had lifted a wooden stool above his head. He was about to smash it on her.

He hit her once. She was now standing on one knee. The chair was not broken yet. The attacker lifted it again, and hit her, breaking one of the wooden legs. She was now lying on the floor, head between her arms to protect herself. The third blow that came was the most painful one for her. The chair broke under the impact, fortunately for her.

She tricked to stand up, but a powerful kick was felt in the stomach. It was strong enough to make her want to throw up. She tried to roll on the side so that her stomach would no longer face the enemy, but then the man put his foot on her back and pressed her to the floor, almost cutting her breath short. Her face hit the rough rug, and it scratched her skin. From the corner of her mouth and from the temple, she felt drips of blood rolling down.

She pushed her body up, but the man forced her back on the ground.

As long as the king was not hurt, she would be fine. Bruises would heal. She would have taken any hits to protect him.

In the position she was, unable to face her enemy, there was no use for her hidden blades. He, on the other hand, had his dagger and could throw a fatal blow at her.

As he was about to do just that, there was a violent sound of a heavy object being thrown across the room. The pressure on her back was lifted, and she stood on her two knees, despite the great pain. The figure of the King blocked the attacker’s view of Aspasia as he interposed himself between them. A sword at hand, his arm was lifted at forty-five degrees, toward the attacker. The man was on the ground. His fall was made more brutal by the hard tables that he encountered.

The King took a menacing step forward, his sword in his arm, reflecting the pale light of the moon. Aspasia’s heart was palpitating wildly. She was drenched in cold sweat.

“I told you to stay out of the way, didn’t I?” She grunted. That sounded less like a question and more like a reproach. The King did not pay attention to her, and he remained positioned between her and the attacker.

“As much as you will hate to admit it to yourself,” said the King in a steady but severe voice, “it is my job, as a man, to protect a woman, no matter how capable the woman is at defending herself.”

Aspasia felt like crying. It was a mixture of anger and gratefulness. If the King had not stepped in, the attacker would have knocked her unconscious. But now that he had interfered, it was time for him to get back into hiding.

“You bastard,” she breathed out, a few tears rolling from the corner of her eyes, “you’re sick! We cannot pretend you’re healthy and apt to dual! Don’t make my job more difficult. Your life is more valuable than mine! I have to protect you no matter what!”

“Shut up, Aspasia.”

“Me? You want me to shut up?? No, you shut up!! Go back!! Go back into hiding, I said!! I’ll take care of this!!”

She tried to take the sword from his hand, but the King’s grip tightened on the weapon. He quickly pushed her back, and turning his head sideways to face her, he gave her a stern look. It was clear that if she survived, she would be punished later for what she had said.

The man pushed himself up and adjusted his mask on his face. A faint glimpse of light on his chest caught Aspasia’s attention. He wore at his neck a sort of necklace, but it was an odd one – it consisted of a string made of leather and a golden plate with unusual shapes on it. It looked like the jewel was missing. Was it done on purpose? Or had he lost the little stone that was meant to fit there?

She tried to estimate the size, and she wondered why the man had kept the necklace hidden throughout the battle. Suddenly, the red jewel she had carried with her from Macedonia felt a hundred times heavier than it was. She did not bring her hand to it, afraid it would catch the attention of the attacker.

Was there a possibility the attacker came for her and not the King?

“You must go,” she whispered into his ear. The two of them stood at very close proximity, so close she could feel the heat leaving his body. She tried to pull the sword from his hand tightened around the grip.

“No,” he replied firmly.

“I said go!”

“And I said no.”

Aspasia wanted to throw a fit. Did he have to be like this right now? All righteous and protective? She attempted another time to take the sword from his hand, but this time without warning, but his hand peeled hers away.

“Don’t make me angry, Aspasia. You don’t want to make me angry; I tell you that.”

“Oh, but you already made _me_ angry. Give me the sword. Give me the sword already!! Let go of it!! How am I supposed to protect you if you keep getting in the way?”

The attacker was searching for his weapon. There was no time for her to fight the King. She looked at him in the eyes, and in the most apologetic tone, she said: “I am so sorry, my King, but I must do what I am about to do.” And she pushed him out of her way and made sure to kick his sword away.

The King’s body landed on the couch and fell on the floor. Aspasia could now focus entirely on the attacker. Blades out, she made a lunge at him. The man was about to throw her body behind him as if she were a bag of flour. Instead, she managed to grab onto him and position herself on his shoulders. Using her thighs, she suffocated him enough to strike an attack. He purposefully fell on the floor on his back, making sure she hit the corner of a table with her head. Her own body amortized his fall.

Head spinning, and bleeding more profusely from the temple, Aspasia began to feel her vision shift a bit. She was losing balance and could not stand up properly. Two strong arms grabbed her by the fabric of her clothes and dragged her across the room.

“No. NOOOO.”

In vain. She never screamed in battle. This was the first time she was acting hysterical. The man had not pipped a single word throughout the fight. He had dragged her to a wall and lifted her by the fabric of her clothes. And with a lot of strength, he smashed her body against the wall, the sound of her back and the head gruesome against the rock-hard wall. She felt dizzier than ever.

_I cannot believe I’m failing at that. I thought I was good at something, at least at fighting. Shit, shit, shit. If I die tonight… I insulted the King, and he will be angry at me. Shit, shit, shit._

That instant, the attacker exposed a hidden blade of his own.

This came to a shock to Aspasia.

Almost like a reflex, she exposed her’s once again, and planted it in the area of the abdomen. The man did the same to her.

She had no idea if his pain was comparable to hers. His clothes were made of multiple layers of fabric, some denser than others. Perhaps they had blocked the blade partially.

She felt the grip of the man loosen up, to the point when he dropped her body entirely. She fell to the ground, more tears streaming down her eyes. The man had luckily hit her more on the side, sparing her vital organs. The cut did not look too deep either. She was going to survive, if she received help quickly. The bleeding was just beginning.

The man looked down at his own stomach, seeing she had a better aim and inserted the blade more to the center, through the layers of clothes and his belt, and with that, he brought his hands to the wound to close it.

Aspasia snickered. “ _Malaka_ … I can still fight.” That was mostly a lie, but she stood up and was about to lift her hand, blade facing him when suddenly the King had run across the room to stop her.

“ASPASIA. ENOUGH.”

The attacker bolted to the balcony, jumped over the balustrade, and disappeared.

Aspasia ran past the King, hoping to catch the attacker, but stopped when she realized he was already out of reach. The blood in her veins curdled, the silence now in the room almost unbearable. She groaned loudly, frustrated that the attacker had gotten away.

Turning around to face the mess she made – the literal mess in the room and the figurative mess – she looked at the King sadly.

“I already know what you will tell me,” she admitted, before he could say something himself. She walked toward him and became vividly aware that he could see her cry. The King did not say anything to her, and Aspasia’s head hung lowly. She opened her arms a bit, and as she began to cry, she went for an embrace. To her, it felt as if she was forcing it upon him.

Much to her surprise, the King did not push her away. She put her head on his shoulder, facing the other way, and made sure not to hug him too tightly, fearing he was going to feel uncomfortable about it. Silently, she accepted the pats on her back.

He sighed to himself.

“What a mess, we made,” Aspasia commented.

He began rubbing her back, hoping it would provide more comfort.

Aspasia did not stay like this too long. She pulled away and braced herself with her arms. The sudden realization that she had been afraid this whole time hit her. She knew her recklessness and impulsivity would bring her problems, lead her to be hurt. This time, she had to do everything she could to survive and save King Baldwin. There was no other option to her.

“Stop crying, let’s go see my physicians,” the king said.

“Hahaha…” she laughed, “did you see all of it? Oh wow… Oh my goodness… I can’t believe it… I spent most of the fight being choked or thrown on the ground, now that I think about it. Hahahaha, oh wow! It just crossed my mind, and I thought it was funny. Don’t you think so?”

It was a mixture of laughter and sobbing. Aspasia did not know why that thought amused her.

To the King’s surprise, she was ignoring her wounds. She was losing a lot of blood by each passing moment, from several areas on her body. He completely ignored what she had just said and patted her hair. “We need to take care of you,” he said worryingly.

Aspasia began sobbing again. She did not attempt to pull him into a hug this time, conscious she had already broken some boundaries. The King noticed that and instead was the one to hold her in his arms this time, but he did that very briefly. It was more symbolic than anything. He made sure her face was facing away from him, worried that his sickness could spread to her if they had more contact than necessary.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.

“It’s alright, Aspasia. Come on. You’re wounded; we must take care of you.”

“I probably ruined your robes with my blood,” she said as they separated. Even in the dark, she could see his white robes were tainted. “That was not my intention, I’m sorry.”

“It is alright, Aspasia. Please calm down now, no more tears.”

He attempted to take her hands and guide her to the canopy, but she remained resistant.

The King frowned at her. “We have to get the physicians here. Your wounds could be fatal if we do not take care of them. Please sit down, Aspasia.”

“I am sorry,” she repeated.

“It is alright. Sit.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I will get blood all over your furniture.”

The King sighed. “You are so stubborn. Did you not say I am your king? Why are you not obeying me unless I give it to you as an order?”

He used a handkerchief he could find to wipe away a tear and almost forced her to sit down. With her hands stopping the blood coming from the stab in the side of her stomach, there was no guarantee she would have the strength to keep her hands there for long enough. The King feared he would find her unconscious when he would comeback with his physicians.

“I should not have called you a bastard or pushed you. I regret that” she mumbled. “I’m so sorry.”

“Aspasia. Look at me. Look at me, I said. All is forgiven. Please, we can talk about this later. I must go and get you some help. Can you stay awake for me? Stay awake and keep your hands there. Yes, just like that, on the wood. You must hold it like this to stop the bleeding. This will not take long, I swear.”

Aspasia groaned. He was trying to remain composed for her sake; she could see it. She had bled so far quite a lot. Her mind was blurry, and all she could worry about were the consequences that would come from calling the King insults and pushing him. She would face the wrath of the whole court, and she will not get away with it the way she did when she fought with Sibylla and criticized her.

“Wait. Maybe the attacker is not far! He could be back,” she stopped the King. “I cannot leave you; I have to keep you safe!”

“ASPASIA! Snap out of it! The attacker is gone! GONE! He was wounded - worse than you perhaps - you did stab him in the stomach! How do you expect to save me?? Look at yourself. You are not in a good state, and you cannot fight!”

“I cannot leave you! I am very worried!”

She was about to stand up once again when the King stopped her. “This is an order, Aspasia: stay here, stay put, and wait for my return. Do not disobey me.”

The King took a few steps back, and he looked over his shoulder to see Aspasia, face paler than ever. A strange thought crossed his mind. Maybe she did want to protect him, but maybe she was also afraid the attacker would come back and finish her. There was no reason for her to be scared to be alone. The attacker was in a worse condition than she was. He would not be back for a long time.

The King walked back to Aspasia. He got on his knees, at her feet, and put his hands on her knees. “I need you to keep applying pressure on your wounds,” King Baldwin reminded her, “can you do that? I promise you he will not be back anytime soon. You did a good job, Aspasia. Wait for me. I’ll be back in a few moments.”

She nodded her head. She was not given much choice. There was no purpose in arguing with the King, so she did as he said and watched him take a few steps back and run to the doors, leaving the apartments.

When he disappeared, her worries grew. She looked down at her body. She was drenched in sweat and blood, the wounds seemed worse than what she had imagined, and for the first time, she was feeling the pain. While she fought, it was almost as if she had ignored it only to keep fighting.

Hand on her waistband, she felt the little jewel, still there. Cold chills ran down her spine. The blood was accumulating, and Aspasia feared that by staying seated, she was going to soil the furniture and fall asleep. She had to remain awake until the physicians could make it there. The King had told her to stay put, which meant that, as long as she did not leave the apartments, she was obeying his orders.

She stood up, attempting to walk a bit. Anxious thoughts of the attacker coming back took over her. As the King had said, Aspasia had taken most of the beating, but the attacker was the one with the deepest cuts. He would not be able to put up another fight with Aspasia, which meant there was nothing to worry about.

Feeling tired in the legs, Aspasia allowed herself to sit down on the floor. There was also this fear that she would get dizzier and fall abruptly. At least, if she sat down, she could easily lay down if she began feeling sick.

The pain was becoming unbearable. She wondered if there was any point in holding her hands to the wounds. She was quickly losing strength in them, and the King was not back yet. Her worry was now that she was dirtying the carpets. They looked expensive. Everything in this room was expensive.

Some time had passed, and the apartments were silent. Aspasia was growing scare, the constant anxiety hovering over her almost like a shadow. To her mind, everything wrong she had done in the past resurfaced. She felt it was the universe punishing her actions.

"Hurry up!" she said to herself. She let her body lay on the floor, in a fetal position, to keep herself warm and to soothe herself. The King was not back yet. What was taking him so long? Where were the physicians? Has anyone found the guards that were supposed to patrol? Did the intruder work alone this whole time? She was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Telling herself she could stay awake while her eyes were closed was not her smartest, brightest idea, but that did not stop her from doing it. It was awhile after when she heard footsteps coming in her direction, hurriedly, but she did not even bother to open her eyes and reply to their call.


	25. Mon Amie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sibylla agrees to keep the jewel a secret when Aspasia tells her that perhaps the attacker was looking for her and not the King.

Aspasia was woken up from her sleep by the sound of several voices.

She felt a soft touch on her forehead and forced herself to open her eyes to see who was trying to soothe her. Next to her stood the princess, and in her embrace, the prince. “You’re awake, Aspasia!” Baldwin chirped. He jumped on her bed and held her in his small arms, careful to not be too rough. Aspasia chuckled, her throat incredibly dry, and rubbed his back.

Sibylla fanned herself, looking slightly tired. “You will have no idea how much trouble I went through to keep him from waking you up.”

Aspasia did not mind that. She would have done anything for the prince, he had always been a good child with a big heart. She tried to move on the side to give him enough space to lay next to her and tucked him in the covers next to her. “Where are we?” Aspasia asked the princess.

“This is an infirmary. My brother had mobilized many of his physicians to take care of you. You just missed him – he left to get his medicine. He should be back soon.”

Aspasia nodded her head. She had hoped she could see him as soon as she had woken up. The prince offered the young woman a glass of water and listened attentively to what she had to say. When Sibylla asked him to go fetch Aspasia a shawl to use to cover herself for when the King would be back, the prince immediately jumped on his feet and ran to search for a maid.

“Sibylla,” Aspasia interrupted, “Has anyone checked my room? Did the intruders go there?”

Sibylla sighed. That was the answer Aspasia had braced herself for.

“Did they take anything?”

“No, it does not seem like it,” affirmed the princess, “but they seemed to be looking for something. I was hoping you would have a clue.”

Aspasia bit her lower lip. While she was unconscious, they had taken off of her the majority of her clothes to be able to patch her wounds. They had been folded and place on a chair nearby, but they needed washing and repairing. They must have found the red jewel Aspasia had kept.

Sibylla looked around to make sure no one was listening and then opened her palm to show what was inside of it. Aspasia picked up the red jewel between her fingers and looked at it as the light reflected the red colour.

“Did you take it or was it a maid?”

“I.”

Aspasia sighed in relief. “Good. Please, do not talk about it to the others. I need to find out what this jewel represents.”

“I won’t, you have my word. But you have to tell me, at least.”

Aspasia frowned and rolled her head to the side. “Can we talk about this later?”

“When, later?”

“I don’t know, maybe when I am allowed to leave.”

“Aspasia, I understand you do not wish to talk about it, but you do realize this put my brother’s - and your - life in danger. We need to figure out what this is and why are people after you.”

“Right, right.”

Sibylla dropped the subject when the sound of quick footsteps approached them. Baldwin arrived with a clean set of clothes that were handed to him by a maid. He set them on Aspasia’s lap and offered to help her tie the knots behind so that she could not stretch any muscles more than she should.

Aspasia covered herself up, not wanting to look at the bandages, and let Sibylla comb and braid her hair. When the realization of Aspasia not being able to re-enact tales of battles hit Baldwin, the little boy’s face sulked. She pinched his nose, hoping he would change the expression on his face.

“I think it is time for _you_ to tell me stories,” she joked.

A servant arrived in the infirmary holding a tray with food. Baldwin helped her sit up by putting a pillow behind her and the servant set the tray on her lap. To her disappointed, most of the foods were soft and easy to digest. She ended up giving her dessert to the prince and was content with drinking her soup.

Sibylla placed the jewel in a small pouch while Baldwin had his back turned to his mother and she handed Aspasia the small pouch. The young woman took it and placed it underneath the pillow.

“Mommy, what’s that?”

Sibylla through her son a severe glance. The boy did not dare press the matters further. That moment, another person approached them. Tiberias made his presence felt and asked for permission to step inside. There were no doors to the infirmary, the area was open to the exterior and anyone could have walked in. Sibylla told Tiberias he could come in and the man stood at the feet of the bed.

“Glad to see you’re awake and well. How is the soup?”

Aspasia grimaced. Tiberias sighed. His question was more of a formality than a serious curiosity.

“Alright, don’t answer that question,” he waved his hand as if he was trying to dissipate the thought into thin air. “I have come to check on you.”

“What happened after I fainted?”

“You were taken care of by the physicians, but they realized you would require intensive care and constant monitoring through the night, so you were brought here.”

“Have you caught the attacker?”

Tiberias shook his head. Aspasia bit her lower lip. She turned her head sideways and noticed for the first time on other beds not far from her, other men laying there. There were only a few, most of them did not wear a uniform but instead, wore bandages on various places on their body. Compared to most, she was the worst one off.

“Slow down, Aspasia,” pressed the princess when Aspasia attempted to push herself up and move in her bed, “you will have to rest, you are not ready to leave yet.”

“Has someone thought of checking on the King? He tried to protect him at one point, and I also pushed him out of my way, he probably got hurt, you have to make sure he – “

“-The king is fine,” interrupted her Tiberias, “and speaking of pushing the King…” There was a severe look in his eyes. He did not press the matters any further, but Aspasia understood the message. If there was going to be a punishment, it will be the decision of the King.

She mumbled something incoherent to herself, covering her face with her hands. The prince rested his head on her forearm.

“Was he angry at me while I was … out?” she asked.

Tiberias and Sibylla began laughing.

“Aspasia, relax!” Sibylla gave her a playful punch on the shoulder. “You’ll have to talk to him if he’s angry with you. I’m sure you can make yourself sweet and loveable if you try hard enough.”

Tiberias clapped his hands. “Alright, maybe we should give you a bit of a break. You need to rest. Be assured, you’re safe and so is the King.”

Aspasia rubbed her eyes and allowed the little prince to tuck her in, just like she did to him several times in the past.

“Baldwin would like to speak to you,” said Sibylla, referring to her brother. “Is it alright if we come and wake you up when he is ready to meet you?”

“Yes.”

Sibylla nodded, and with a big smile, she led her son out of the infirmary, Tiberias following them closely behind. Aspasia managed to close her eyes despite the bright light from outside.

←→

She had slept for several hours, not moving a single muscle of her body. It was a dreamless sleep, but she was comfortable, the sunlight kept her warm and the faint sound of chatter relaxed her. It was the day, people were around her, she was safe.

She was woken up much later by a maid, and the smell of food prompted her to open her eyes. A maid had just brought her another tray with food and placed it on the table near Aspasia. She spoke to her in Arabic, but Aspasia could not understand a single word. The servant helped her stand up on her butt and placed the tray on her lap. She mentioned the name of the King, the only word Aspasia understood in the sentence, and the young woman hurried to eat, assuming King Baldwin would be arriving soon.

When she was done eating, the maid picked up the empty dish and nodded her head at her, with a smile on her lips. Was that a signal that she was going to fetch the King? It was unclear to Aspasia.

She decided to rest her eyes for a bit. Again, another bad idea of hers. She was in a state of semi-sleep, when a soft touch on her arm made her open her eyes. She almost jumped out of her bed when she saw the King had pulled a chair next to her bed and sat there, looking at her through his mask.

“How did you get there so quietly?”

King Baldwin chuckled. “You were sleeping so peacefully, I am sorry to have to wake you up, the maid told me you were ready to receive me.”

Aspasia was about to sit up once again, but the King motioned to her to remain as she was.

She felt her cheeks blush. Was she dressed appropriately to meet with the King? Did it matter? She was in a hospital bed; he could not possibly expect of her to be dressed and coiffed. She passed a hand through her hair to arrange it in a subtle manner. She stopped before it would become too obvious.

“How are you feeling, Asp- “

“- I am so sorry,”

“What?”

Aspasia took a deep breath. “I am sorry about everything I said and done last night. You did tell me to not go about and make enemies when it is not needed.”

His shoulders dropped. It felt like he wanted to say something but prevented himself from doing it. Aspasia paused to see if he would interrupt her, then asked: “you’re not going to say anything?”

“What do you mean?”

She frowned. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Come on… I don’t find this game funny anymore.”

The King must have noticed the sadness in her look. She was about to tear up and he hated the thought of being the reason a woman was crying. She had already cried previously, twice a week was pushing it.

He sat straight and sighed at her.

“Aspasia, I do remember you apologizing last night. You apologized for many, many different things, in fact.”

“Do you like seeing me beg for forgiveness like this then?”

“What? No. No, of course not. Listen, I already said you were forgiven, haven’t I?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, “you said that to me last night when I was bleeding, and you just needed me to calm down and listen to you. I think I deserve to know where I stand, with you and your family, after everything that had happened so far. I find it a bit unfair that you make me wait to know what will happen to me. I would like to have closure.”

“And what do you think will happen to you?”

Aspasia shrugged. “I am not sure. My father would have beaten me for what I did. No, let me rectify that: he would have asked someone else to do that for him.”

“But I am not your father.”

Aspasia chuckled at that. She quickly stopped when she realized the King was not going to laugh. His eyes were fixated on her, she felt more and more like a toddler who was asked to tell what the most adequate punishment for their actions was.

“I was very scared last night,” she confessed.

“Me too,” answered the King.

“No, no, you don’t understand I am used at doing this type of thing because I know that even if I get beaten up, I will always have another day to reschedule the fight. When I was younger, and I lived with my father, I knew that even though I was getting beaten by someone much taller, much stronger, than I, they would never cross the line and kill me. This time, I had to make sure you were safe and that I survived long enough, which means declaring defeat was not even an option.”

Upon saying that, the King slowly stood up from his chair and took a step in Aspasia’s direction. Without bending to be at her level, he put an arm around her shoulder and with the other, he completed the embrace. Aspasia rested her head against his arm, trying to not cry.

Physical touch has always been a big problem for King Baldwin. He was told his disease could spread by touch. The only people who could touch him were the physicians who applied ointments. He had been covering his whole body in fabric to prevent the spreading of his disease and to hide his appearance.

“Why are you crying this time?” Although his words sounded harsh, they were sweet and comforting. Aspasia tried to breathe in calmly. He smelled of ointment, something like green grass and flowers, but the scent was vague. The pats on her back helped her calm down. As long as the King did not hate her, she was happy.

“Did I not say you were forgiven?” Now his voice was much softer. How could he speak like this, with a mask and bandages wrapped around his neck? “ _Mon amie_ ,” he continued, “you’re very dear to me, and I despise seeing you cry. Your courage and perseverance are touching, Aspasia. Are you afraid there is a punishment waiting for you? There is none, I tell you. You know, when I arrived back with the physicians and found you lying on the carpet, breathing very silently, it gave me one of those frights where I thought I had lost a dear friend. Please, stop crying now, no more tears, it’s not worth it.”

This time, Aspasia began sobbing harder, but it was because of a different emotion. She thought her heart had shattered into many pieces. It became clear to her that she cared about King Baldwin more than anyone else, the thought of losing to an intruder was enough to pump the blood in her veins and push her to keep fighting. She would have never done this for anyone else. Self-preservation at all costs. But that changed with King Baldwin.

Her chances of winning had been slim, and the King had come to her aid when he should not have. She almost despised him for even putting himself in a dangerous situation when he was sick, and he made others worry for him. She did not regret reminding him he was sick, last night, but she did regret the delivery. If it were not for him interfering with his own sword, Aspasia would have been way worse.

Her turmoil of emotions had shown her how she really felt, and it pained her to admit that it was not obvious to decipher the King’s own thoughts. Did he care about Aspasia the same way that she did? Was he like this with other women? Surely, when one man did not speak to women other than his own sister, he would feel compelled to be kind to just anyone. She wanted to take off his mask and see the man underneath. Perhaps only like this, she could ever read him.

The King’s hand brushed her hair lightly, playing a bit with the braid Sibylla had done. It was the most relaxing feeling in the world. If only it could last longer.


	26. Courtroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Sibylla gone for Ibelin, Aspasia is alone at the castle. She learns that Guy has been neglecting some of his duties and this angers Tiberias and King Baldwin.

A few weeks had passed and Aspasia’s life, little by little, seemed to return to normal.

The first week, when she was discharged from the infirmary, was the most difficult. At night, she would wake up with night terrors and be unable to return to sleep. A maid would come in and check on her but could not stay with her an indefinite amount of time. This was brought to Sibylla’s attention. The princess understood that Aspasia was scared of another attack and offered her to sleep in her room, in her bed, so long as Aspasia showed improvement. In the beginning, Aspasia would lay quietly in the bed. Occasionally, Sibylla would shift her position and find that the young woman had not moved a single muscle. In an attempt to soothe her, the princess would massage her forearm or rub her back affectionately and return to sleep.

This also allowed Sibylla to keep an eye on her, in case she wanted to scratch her wounds or if she twitched in bed too much. After a certain period of time, the prince found out his mother and her best friend were doing that, he decided to immediately join the party and make himself comfortable between them. Aspasia was happy to welcome him, but sleeping with a little boy next to her was more difficult than anticipated, as he would grab into pieces of her hair in his sleep and so she would not be able to shift in the bed, searching for a more comfortable position.

When Aspasia seemed to be able to regain sleep, she decided to return to her own room, with a promise of not opening her bandages and scratching her wounds, no matter how itchy they were. During the day, she and Sibyllaa ere supposed to focus on their Greek classes until Aspasia was apt at fighting when Sibylla announced her she will be leaving for Ibelin for few days, and Aspasia was free to join. “No, but thank you for the offer,” Aspasia replied.

Sibylla was surprised. “Are you sure? I think you should get some peace and quiet, I can see that you have been tense, the previous days.”

Aspasia shrugged. “I cannot help it. What I know is that going to Ibelin will not help me in any way.”

Sibylla frowned her shoulders. “Does that have to do with my brother? Aspasia, I can guarantee you that he is safe now, with his guards. No one will come back to – “

“-No, Sibylla, it has nothing to do with this. In fact, even if I wanted to protect him, I don’t think I could. You’ve seen my wounds; they are much, much better, but still not perfect.”

Sibylla’s head hung low.

“Alright. If you say so. But don’t feel like it is your job to protect anyone. When I get back, I want to make sure that you’re healthy. You owe me some self-defence classes; I am getting tired of studying Greek every single day.” This remark made Aspasia smile in satisfaction. The princess had made a lot of progress, she had a lot to learn but she could already escape an enemy, block an incoming attack or use the enemy’s own strength against them. Aspasia was excited for things to return to normal so that the two women can continue working.

The princess, as she has said it, was standing at the gates with her maid and her knights the next morning. Their horses had been brought to them; the knights only awaited the princess’ orders to prepare for departure. Aspasia had joined Tiberias and the King as they bid the princess goodbye. The moment she had stepped out of the castle grounds with her horse and was far from sight, King Baldwin and Tiberias stepped back inside, Aspasia following them closely.

“Any news of Guy, my lord?” asked Tiberias.

There was a shrug but no reply. Even from standing behind the King, Aspasia could sense a sort of frustration. She shared a glance with Tiberias, who seemed to know more about it than her. It was true she had not seen Guy for a long time, she assumed he would be busy with the Templars, and never had an interest in knowing his whereabouts. What mattered was that he was needed at the palace and he was making the King wait for him.

“Were you expecting Guy? I did not know he lived in the palace,” Aspasia said.

“He was supposed to be here, along with his knights, but for some reason, in the past few days, we have not had news from him,” explained Tiberias. There was a moment of silence. There was nothing good about having a problematic figure roaming about. He could be getting in all sorts of troubles. Did Sibylla know where her husband was most of the time? She was not here to answer that question, but Aspasia could imagine the answer. She looked up to analyze the face of Tiberias and the King, but both seemed impartial.

Not sure what to do, Aspasia followed them as they traversed the hallways, possibly heading to Tiberias’ office. The King and the Count spoke of treaties they had to sign but mentioned worries that had to do with how the Muslims refused to be escorted by some of their knights. This came to a surprise to Aspasia: they had already witnessed how brutal the Templars were, surely, they would not take the risk into running into them again. If the King’s army was with them, perhaps no Templar would dare attack.

“Why would they refuse your help?” asked Aspasia, “they should know by now that this is the only way they will travel safely across the land.”

“The Muslims have never been too fond of cooperating with us,” Tiberias said, “believe me, I have tried to convince them of accepting our help.” It was a known fact that the two religious groups did not trust one another but Aspasia, if she was in their position, would have chosen the help of the King, the least bad of the two options.

  
The three of them reached the office, Tiberias opened the door for them and allowed them to step in first. Then, he looked through a cabinet where he kept several types of alcohols and offered to serve them some wine when the King refused. For obvious reasons. Her train of thoughts was interrupted by Tiberias, who held in his hands two empty cups and a bottle of French wine: “Aspasia?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t be shy,” coaxed Tiberias, “it is one of my favourites, I had it delivered from France.”

“Alright then, if that is alright…”

Tiberias brought her a cup and handed it to the lady. He filled himself his own cup and placed the bottle back on its shelf. Aspasia glanced quickly at the King and saw him looking down at his feet. If it would have been impolite, Tiberias would have never offered wine. Perhaps that, no matter how often this happened to him, the King would always feel uncomfortable when he could not eat or drink in front of others.

“I will need to speak to Guy when he comes back,” said Tiberias, “would you want to be there when that happens?”

“I will let you deal with it this time,” answered the King.

“You seem tired,” Tiberias commented.

The King perked up in his seat. “I had difficulty falling asleep last night,” he answered. There were no further details, but judging by the way Tiberias nodded his head, it seemed as if there was a sort of tacit understanding between them. Aspasia could only make a guess: either he had too much work and had to sleep late, or he was in pain and had to take medication.

“And how have you been lately, Aspasia?” Tiberias asked her.

Now all their eyes were set on her, which added more pressure. Aspasia who, so far, had sat lazily on her chair, sat up straight and cleared her throat. ‘Good’ was the only thing she could come up as an answer. She did not know if she should have complained or if it was even polite to do so. At this point in time, she was convinced the King, very much omniscient, knew about everything: there was a possibility Sibylla has told her brother of Aspasia’s night terrors.

Tiberias would have said something when they were suddenly interrupted by a servant. The man, standing in the doorway, paid no attention to the look on Tiberias’ face, who seemed angry that he did not knock first, and began speaking in Arabic. Tiberias’ eyes were wide open, like saucers, and the King stood up from his seat with a bit of difficulty. Aspasia ran by his side to help him, and he thanked her with a hand gesture.

“What is going on? What did he say?”

“Guy is back from God knows where,” the King answered her, “we have been waiting a few days for his return, it is urgent that we meet with him.”

“Your Highness,” spoke Tiberias, “stay here and let me deal with him.”

“No, I changed my mind,” responded the King, “I’ll join you. Guy will not have the guts to speak back to me if I am present.”

The King let go of Aspasia who had been supporting him and followed hurriedly Tiberias out of his office. Aspasia and the servant walked behind them but maintaining a close distance. Soon, they were standing once again at the front gates of the castle, when the guards inside opened the doors and let in Guy and a few of his knights. The expression on his face changed the moment he noticed the King standing next to Tiberias. 

Guy got off his horse and a servant took it to the stables. Another one came to hold his sword and take it to the blacksmith for cleaning and polishing. “Guy. Welcome back,” spoke Tiberias.

“My… Have you waiting here for me this whole time?” His eyes set on Aspasia, whom he recognized very well. His attention went back to the King and Tiberias, and he laughed at his own joke. “How may I help you?”

The servant next to Aspasia shifted his weight from one leg to another.

“You have been long for quite some time,” Tiberias commented, “I hope you have not forgotten your duties for the Kingdom.”

“Of course not,” Guy de Lusignan spoke. A servant brought him a bowl with water from which he could wash his hands in, “this is the whole reason why I am here, in the Holy Land, after all.”

He whipped his hand using a towel a servant had brought him and he threw it back, then he walked past Tiberias and the King.

_Finally, someone who can beat me at being disrespectful,_ Aspasia thought to herself as she smirked.

“Where do you think you are going?”

“Take a bath,” Guy replied to Tiberias, “if you need me, you know where to look for me.”

“I hope you have not done anything out there that you will come to regret.” The words that escaped the King’s lips made Aspasia shiver. It sounded like a friendly warning but to anyone who did not know the King, it was almost a threat. Aspasia’s gaze travelled from the King to Guy. Guy stopped from his tracks and looked at the King, a fake smile across his face.

“Absolutely not. I have no intentions of causing you trouble.”

At with that, he left, leaving the King, Tiberias and Aspasia standing there. Aspasia took a step closer to the two men, curious to read their facial expressions. Tiberias looked angry but there was nothing he could do. That same anger emanated from the King, it was almost palatable. Aspasia would have put a hand on their shoulders to calm them, but she feared that would be crossing a boundary.

Guy disappeared in the castle, and when he did, King Baldwin spun on his heels and walked away. Tiberias followed him, and Aspasia followed them as well. She was too afraid to speak up, risking angering them even more. All of this was none of her business and there was no way she could contribute in any significant way that they have not thought about it.

“There was no blood on his clothes,” noted Tiberias, “but we cannot give him the benefit of the doubt just for that.” There was no answer from the King. “Doesn’t matter,” continued Tiberias, “he understood the message. As long as he heads back to work.”

Aspasia kept following the two characters blindly, and in a matter of minutes, they were standing in front of the King’s apartments. She felt like someone had pinched at her heart, there was an odd feeling to having to return to the apartments. The memories of the intruder were vivid in her mind. She sensed the King look at her for a second, and when she turned her head to look at him. She gave him a small smile, and he looked away.

As they stepped inside, she noticed how some of the furniture had been replaced, and what could be saved was restored. Some of the items, she had broken during the fight, Aspasia had never given them too much of a thought, until now. The King invited Aspasia to take a seat at his chess table – perhaps his most prized possession and offered Tiberias to take the other seat, but Tiberias insisted he would bring another chair of his own.

“You rarely play chess,” noted the King.

“I do not have the patience,” admitted Tiberias, “to wait and think every possible move.”

“But you do that at war,” argued Aspasia, “how is chess any different.”

The King laughed a bit. His laugh turned into a cough. “I’m alright,” he said as Aspasia leaned in to make sure he was alright. “You can start with the first move, Aspasia.”

Aspasia moved a piece on the board, remembering the rules of the game. She looked up at the King, sensing he was trying to conceal his joy. Did he have a partner with who to play? Surely, he did. He had servants and he was close to Tiberias and Balian. Perhaps even his own nephew would want to spend time with his uncle, but maybe Sibylla would not allow that.

The King moved a piece of his own. The game advanced quickly at the beginning but as it progressed, the King starred pensively at the board. Aspasia thought she ought to do the same. From time to time, Tiberias would make a comment, give a clue to Aspasia or tease the King when she would eliminate one of his pawns.

“Look at her, she’s beating you,” Tiberias laughed, then playfully rubbing Aspasia’s shoulder, hoping this would make her laugh.

The King exhaled and laughed. “It’s not nice to laugh at your king when he is losing.”

Aspasia would have assured him that he would be winning this round. Before she could say anything, there was a knock on the door. The same servant that had interrupted them earlier, in Tiberias’ office, had come back. This time, he acted composed but there was a worried expression on his face. He spoke in Arabic to Tiberias, rapidly and almost out of breath. When he was done, Tiberias sent him away, and the Count turned to look at the King. The chess game had stopped.

Aspasia scrutinized their face. “Is something the matter?” she asked. Having received no answer, she repeated: “what’s wrong?”

The King shifted his attention between Tiberias and Aspasia. “We have to assemble the court. Send a servant to fetch Guy.”

Tiberias left the room quickly, trusting Aspasia to accompany the King to the courtroom. Aspasia stood up from her seat and walked to the side of the King. She offered to help him stand up, but he refused the help. He did not give her any further instructions, so Aspasia followed him until he would not require her help anymore.

“What is going on? What did the servant say?”

“There was a raid on a Muslim caravan,” the King said, “we have to bring to Patriarch as well.” Aspasia did not catch the rest of his words, but she understood that the issue involved the Muslims, and as a consequence, it was important. Tiberias had just dealt with Saladin’s representative; the King did not need any further troubles.

“I’ll bring you to the courtroom and run to get the Patriarch.” As they arrived at the courtroom, many knights had already began gathering. They remained in groups, each distinct by their uniform. When Aspasia saw the familiar uniform of the Templar knights, cold chills ran down her spine. She looked at the King who was making his way to his seat, at the front, when Aspasia stopped him from his tracks. “Like I said, I will go and fetch the Patriarch. Can I stay here and listen to what is going on? I promise I will not say one wor-“

“- What? No, Aspasia! I forbid you to be in the courtroom! This is a matter between men and politics! That is no place for a woman such as yourself!”

“Why not? I will remain quiet, I swear! Why can’t you –“

“- No. And that’s my final answer. Don’t disobey me.”

He was about to walk away. Her heart sank at the bottom of the stomach. Could she not make herself useful in times of crisis? She wanted to be a support, a pillar. Could the King not see that? She wanted to change for the better, but it felt like she was never given an opportunity.

Perhaps the King sensed he had been too harsh on her. He stopped from his tracks and walked back to her. With both hands on her shoulders but from a safe distance, he shook her gently and said: “I am sorry for my poor choice of words, Aspasia, please understand that I am under pressure. This is not against you, believe me. Can we continue this discussion after?”

She swallowed her saliva with difficulty. The weight of his hands on her shoulder was heavier now. She nodded his head just so that he could go back to the court. The King nodded his head back at her and walked away. Aspasia did not waste another moment to go after the Patriarch. She found him in his rooms, working at his desk. He did not ask from her any more information, but thanked her and ran to join the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! To justify why I am posting with a delay: 1) I have finished all my exams and spent two days just being lazy and unwinding, and 2) inspiration came hard for this chapter. Although my whole story is planned in advance, I did not know how to proceed at this point. I hope you enjoy, I am already in the process of writing the next chapters.


	27. Assemble the Army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia climbs the rooftop to eavesdrop. Saladin will declare war to the Christian for having attacked a caravan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of the day, that's my way of apologizing for the long delay! Most of the text was taken from the script of the movie, this made my job a lot easier. Enjoy!

As soon as the last men had entered the room, the two guards standing next to the door closed them. They sent Aspasia a hostile look as if to discourage her from entering. She stood in front of the closed gates as if she had to stare long enough before someone would pop up and invite her in. Normally, Aspasia would have sneaked her way into the room, but she did not have the Templar uniform nor other uniform related to any order.

The fact that the King personally asked her to remain outside made matters even worse. For some reason, she was not supposed to be aware of the political matters that affected the Kingdom. She could not help but feel nervous for the King and Tiberias. They were standing in a room where half of the people there hated their guts. Guy was one of them, although he would never openly insult the King.

Aspasia looked around. There were no windows that gave to the courtroom, only an open ceiling. She scratched her head. If she managed to climb up, would that be considered that she disobeyed a direct order? So far, the King has been very lenient with her. She could take the risk this time, especially after she almost lost her life for his sake. If they were to argue with her, she would claim she needed to keep an eye open for his safety.

Her dress, which was gifted to her by Aspasia, did not allow her to move freely and climb palisades and walls. She quickly ran to her room to change in her own clothes. They were better suited for physical activity. A maid had picked them for her, washed them and sown the cuts. It was in pristine condition now. Looking around her room, she found her hidden blades and decided to put them on, just in case.

She ran to the top floor, and, making sure the servant did not spot her, she climbed up a column and made her way to the rooftop. From there, she made sure she did not walk past the edge, otherwise, her shadow would be cast down on the ground.

Aspasia jumped from one building to another, almost falling over on several occasions, but catching onto anything and getting back up. She finally made it to the courtroom, standing above them, looking down at the meeting. She found the King seated on a low podium from where she was standing near him were other servants. At the very center sat the Patriarch, facing the King. The Hospitallers and the Templars were divided into two distinct groups, each occupying one side of the room.

Aspasia moved across the rooftop, remaining low. The King was in her line of view, but she could easily listen to the discussion that was taking place. Tiberias seemed the only one not to have a seat. She realized she had missed a good portion of the hearing.

Guy had stepped forward, close enough to the Patriarch and Tiberias. “Maybe Reynald did attack a caravan. But what of it? War is inevitable. Peace...unnatural.”

Another man, dressed from head to toe in white, harbouring the red cross on his chest, was quick to step forward, almost pushing Guy aside. His uniform reminded Aspasia the one her own father wore. Although less imposing in stature than Guy or her own father, she would assume that this main was the Templar Master. “It was no caravan. It was an army headed for Bethlehem to desecrate the birthplace of Our Lord.”

Exasperated, Tiberias interrupted: Reynald, with the Templars, I am sure—” There were shouts, the Templar knights quickly spat ‘lie! Lie!’. “...have broken the king’s pledge of peace. Saladin will come into this kingdom...”

“Tiberias knows more than a Christian should about Saladin’s intentions.” Now that Guy had created doubt in Tiberias, he had managed to create a strong reaction among the barons.

Tiberias moved from his position and got near Guy. He spoke to him in a soft tone, but even Aspasia could hear. “What do you say?”

“That you love the Saracens.”

Aspasia’s blood curdled. If she had been there, she would have lost her cool and jumped at his throat. It was an attempt to humiliate Tiberias. To her own surprise, Tiberias got even closer and this time, almost whispered at Guy. Aspasia attempted to guess what he had told him but alas.

As Tiberias took a step back, Guy replied back but loudly; “That sort of Christianity has its uses. I suppose.”

Tiberias then exclaimed to the whole court: “we cannot have war with Saladin. We will not win it. And, yes, we do not want it.”

“Blasphemy!”

“BLASPHEMY!!”

The Templar Grandmaster was visibly trying his best to keep up with Tiberias. “An army of Jesus Christ which bears his holy cross cannot be beaten. Does the Count of Tiberias suggest that it could be?”

There was an uproar.

Aspasia looked at the King. The monarch had not moved or spoken so far, only observed as the knights fought. It seemed that the Patriarch as well had grown tired of the spar, as he sank deeper and deeper into his seat.

Aspasia looked back at the King, and just as she was about to move from her position to another, she noticed the King’s head moving up. Their eyes met for a brief second. Her heart skipped a beat. The King then lowered his head, facing the crowd, but Aspasia could swear his eyes were set on her. For some reason, she did not fear punishment from him – King Baldwin was facing much bigger issues that instant. It was not as if Aspasia had directly disobeyed him. There was no rule against standing on a rooftop and watching from above.

As soon as the commotion calmed, the Templar Master said: “there must be war. God wills it.”

“God wills it!”

“God wills it!”

“GOD WILLS IT!”

Her eyes followed Tiberias. The man had fallen silent.

“Then pray Jerusalem that God will win it, for in the end we shall not,” the Count suddenly yelled at the whole court. There was a silence, a mixture of shock at his brusque reaction and what sounded like a threat.

A messenger appeared behind the King and brought him a letter. The King raised his masked face. This was the first time the King had done anything. All eyes were on him. Aspasia’s heart palpitated in her chest, anxious at the content of the letter. After reading it to themselves, the King looked at the ground and made an announcement:

“Saladin has crossed the Jordan. With two hundred thousand men.”

Tiberias interrupted, exasperated now more than ever. As he walked toward the King, he stopped a few feet away from Guy and said: “He will go first for Kerak.” Then he climbed the podium and was about to meet the King when he was stopped from his tracks.

“Assemble the Army.”

“Your majesty...If you travel, you will die.”

Aspasia's eyes travelled to Guy, who seemed pleased, for a reason. The King paused and looked at Tiberias. He then whispered something for him in private.

"Assemble the Army."

←→

Aspasia quickly climbed down the roof and met with Tiberias at the front gates when the assembly dissolved. The man first noticed her attire - the same one she wore when she was sent to assassinate him - and wondered why she needed to wear it if all she did was wait for them to come out.

"Guy is just as guilty as Reynald de Châtillon."

Tiberias shushed her.

"What?"

"Yes, but we don't have the proof."

"What do you mean by no proof? When he warned the King this journey could be his last one, he smirked! I saw him!"

"You...?"

Aspasia slapped her forehead. "Yes, you heard me right. I was listening."

Footsteps approached her and based on Tiberias' facial expressions, it meant nothing but trouble. When she turned around, she was met by the silver mask of the King.

"Aspasia."

She froze on her spot. For a second, she wished it would have been Guy - he would have been easier to deal with. "Your Highness."

He seemed displeased. Aspasia never referred to him like this. "I saw you. Up there."

Tiberias seemed confused. It seemed improbable to him that someone could climb in the roof the way Aspasia did

"Yes, we made eye contact," said Aspasia matter-of-factly. "Alright, alright, I know you are mad, but you told me not to go be in the courtroom, and you see, I did not disobey you! There is no rule for being on the rooftop and listening from above!"

The King nodded to Tiberias, and the Count soon left. It was now only Aspasia and King Baldwin. No one to save her from his wrath. She would have to face the consequences.

"Please don't be mad," Aspasia begged, "you're always mad at me. I hate that."

"I'm not mad," admitted the King, "at least not at you." He made sure no one listened to their conversation and pulled Aspasia aside. "We will be heading south, with the army, to Kerak. I need you to go down before us, as I prepare the army, and send word to Balian to protect the villagers. My army will be there soon. I need him to hold the Saracen army long enough for us to make it there. Then, make sure to escort Sibylla to safety, within the fort's walls. Once you get there, do not engage in combat. Remain with Sibylla and her knights. Please Aspasia. Please do not make me worry about you as well. Can I count on you to do that?"


	28. Castle of Kerak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia goes with Tiberias to Ibelin to warn Balian that the Muslim army is marching toward Kerak. Aspasia first meets Reynald de Chatillon, a man who seems rather useless and incompetent than threatening.

Tiberias and Aspasia got on their horses and left briefly after the court hearing was over. The galloped out of Jerusalem, passed the south gates, and traversed a dry area. The path to Ibelin was familiar to Aspasia; she had taken it in the past and retained some gruesome memories of it. After a few hours of riding, houses and trees poked out of the ground, in the distance.

Having ridden their horses for hours with no break, Aspasia and Tiberias arrived at Ibelin tired. People there seemed to work the fields as if they were unaware of the state of affairs of the Kingdom. Aspasia looked around, searching for someone who seemed in charge.

“This trip really is taking a toll on me,” chuckled Tiberias, but he sounded just as nervous as Aspasia was.

She looked at the Count and saw his pearly forehead. His skin was pale. She frowned. “Do you not look so good, Tiberias. Do you want some water?” She offered her waterskin and extended her hand to him, but Tiberias shook his head.

“The desert really is harmful. I notice only now how tiresome it is, to travel under the constant heat.”

“Come on, Balian must be here somewhere.”

They progressed deeper within Ibelin when a Saracen arrived, and he spoke to Tiberias as if his face was familiar to him. Aspasia instructed him, in Latin, to be careful when helping Tiberias get off his horse, assuming the man would understand her. When he offered a hand to the Count, Tiberias almost slipped off the animal, his sudden fall made their heart jump in their chest. Aspasia managed to grab him by his cape and the servant supported his body and pulled him to the ground carefully.

More people gathered around them. Two men who seemed to be in charge pushed past the crowd and made it to Tiberias.

“Is he hurt?” one of them asked Aspasia.

“Hurt? No. But dehydrated and tired, yes. Take him somewhere where he can rest. I need to speak to Balian and to Sibylla, it’s a matter of urgency. I have a message from the King.”

As she said that, Aspasia was given a hand to get off the horse and helped climb down. She was then brought to Balian’s mansion, where she found Sibylla and her maid. The princess seemed surprised to see Aspasia there but sensed that something was not right.

“Sibylla!” Aspasia hugged the princess.

“Aspasia! What made you come here?”

“We are going to war against Saladin,” she explained, “the Templar have raided a caravan that was heading to Jerusalem and your brother is preparing the army. We need to go.”

Footsteps across the hallway were made heard and Aspasia quickly let go of the princess and ran toward the person who approached them. She came face to face with Balian, who was wearing dirty clothes, having obviously worked in the fields with his men and women.

“Is Tiberias alright?” Aspasia asked.

“I have him a room where he can rest. He said you have a message from the King.”

And Aspasia sat him down and told him everything King Baldwin asked her to tell him. She explained what Reynald de Chatillon had done and what the King asked of Balian. Not wasting another second, Balian instructed his men to gather their armour, weapons and horses and prepare to leave to Kerak. Sibylla jumped on her feet and with her maid, the two women headed to their rooms to put on their cloaks and headscarves. Aspasia followed them and once they were finished, the three of them gathered outside to their horses.

A man arrived to help the princess get on her horse and as he was about to help Aspasia, she asked him: “please tell Balian to leave Tiberias here, where he can rest. He is in no condition to fight.”

The man nodded and once the women were on their horses, he ran back to the mansion.

“How many men will they gather?” Aspasia asked the princess, “we are not nearly enough people to hold off Saladin.”

Balian’s small army of forty men gathered shortly. All wore their armour and carried their weapons. Aspasia noticed she had not been given anything. She would have protested but Balian did want to hear anything. Her hidden blades will not be sufficient.

As Balian led them to Kerak, Aspasia made sure to remain near Sibylla and her maid. After riding for several hours, they had finally reached a desert area, and in the distance, there was a fortress. The land was dry, but it was near the border of Muslim territories, so the Kingdom of Jerusalem would do anything to protect.

Aspasia began to feel the heat on her back, after having travelled from Jerusalem to Ibelin, then to Kerak. As they arrived there, the farmers that worked outside were running to take refuge at the castle. The villages outside Kerak were evacuated in haste. People were riding their camels or mules; others were on foot.

Aspasia’s horse became agitated, but she stabilized it and pat it on the neck. There was nothing precious about the valley of Kerak, only a fort and clouds of dust. Balian had turned Ibelin into a small oasis – Reynald the Chatillon had done nothing except raid and pillage Muslims.

“The cavalry will come up the valley to close Reynald in, and the siege army will come behind it,” explained one of Balian’s men.

Balian looked at the refugees straggling across the desert. As he did so, Aspasia followed his gaze. In the distance, Muslim horsemen were approaching, coming up the valley. Other parties of the cavalry appear in all directions. With that number, there was no chance that Balian’s men would attack and live.

“This is not good. Look at how many men they have,” breathed Aspasia.

Balian turned to face Aspasia, then Sibylla. Sibylla bit her lower lip, and when she noticed the worried look on Balian’s face, she said: “princesses are not killed. Somewhere it is written down.”

“Go into the fortress. Now.”

Sibylla nodded her head. She kissed Balian and galloped off, Aspasia and the maid behind her. The princess sent one last glance behind her shoulder, Balian was riding forward with his garrison.

As the women approached the fortress, the bell continued to alarm the people of a future attack. The three women on their horses flash up through the gates. A hoarse voice shouted ‘visitors!’ The horses stopped and Aspasia was the first one to climb off. The maid helped the princess get down and led them upstairs. Sybilla walked past a fat man with red hair, dressed in festive clothes. The man held a half-peeled orange in his hand, and his cheeks looked slightly pink, matching his whole look. He obviously had drunk a bit, judging from the smell of alcohol that lingered on him.

Aspasia frowned as her eyes set on him. He looked indifferently at the desert, in the distance, where Balian and his knights were stationed. The man turned his head toward her, finally noticing he did not know who Aspasia was.

“Who are you?”

“Aspasia. And I suppose you must be Reynald de Chatillon?”

“Yes, the one and only. If you know my name, you must have heard some great things about me.”

Aspasia scoffed.

“What?” he asked her.

“You’re in trouble, big guy.” She completely ignored him afterwards, he was useful in that state and she followed Sibylla. A man who looked like a cleric approached the edge of the balcony and looked in the same direction as Sibylla. Reynald swiftly made his way there and created space between the cleric and the princess.

“How many?” Reynald asked the cleric, stumbling on everyone around him in the process. The princess managed to slide away, but the priest was held firmly by Reynald’s grip.

“I can’t see yet. Only a dust cloud...”

Reynald tried to place his goblet against the balustrade but as he was about to drop it, the priest quickly picked it. Reynald walked away, heading to his seat, and mumbled something like: “I serve God. That is what I do. If God tells me to raid Mecca then by God I raid Mecca… That is the way things are done. And now it’s all this. Again.”

Aspasia sent a worried glance at the princess, who was fed up with his behaviour. Was it typical of him? Aspasia knew he had taken a liking for bloodshed and blades, but he seemed remotely harmless, drunk and incapable.

Many refugees had made it to the gate. Sibylla and her maid stood by the ramparts, looking out.

“I wish I were fifty again or that you drank liquor,” he spoke to himself more than to others. He noticed no one paid attention to him, the lord of this castle, and he shouted: “what do you look at?”

“Knights.”

Reynald sat up again and approached Sibylla one more time. He followed her gaze and looked into the distance as well. “What knights?” he asked, squinting.

Aspasia pushed him to the side. Reynald stumbled but he was caught by one of his servants. “Sibylla,” she said, putting a hand on her shoulder, “I have to go and fight with them. They are guarantee to lose, I must go and lend a hand if I can.”

Sibylla frowned. “Aspasia, no. Are you out of your mind?”

“I can fight! All I need is a sword and a horse – “

“- No. Listen to me. You have to stay here. It was an order.”

“But – “

“- no, I don’t want to hear it!” Sibylla argued. “My brother ordered you to stay by my side and protect me, is this not what you told Balian, in Ibelin? Why would you go there? You will die for sure.”

“So will Balian. They need help.”

Sibylla pursed her lips. “As much as it pains me, I cannot risk your life as well. Stay here and stay put. I will not waste your life over this. How does one more soldier make a difference? Aspasia, you work better alone, not in a group. You will not be able to fight in a formation. Stay here, I said.”

The princess was right. Aspasia was never good at fighting in a group. She would prove herself to be bothersome if anything. Besides, the King had asked her to protect Sibylla at all costs. After having irked him for having listened to the court hearing earlier in the day, she was not ready to disobey him too soon. Seeing that Aspasia was going to listen to her, Sibylla relaxed a little bit.

“So, what do we do now?” Aspasia asked.

“We wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, but necessary to introduce the battle.


	29. Saladin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Balian and his men who could not hold off the Saracens on their own, it seems like Aspasia is about to lose hope. Then the King arrives with his army.

The clash that ensued turned into chaos, men fighting with men, swords slicing flesh and shields blocking attacks. Most men had fallen off their horses, and the creature ran away in disarray. Under the hot sun in the middle eastern desert, most men dropped like flies. From the fortress, it was impossible to recognize who was a Muslim and who was a Christian.

At the beginning of the battle, both forces charged at each other, but the Saracen enemy surrounded Balian’s men and soon, each Christian soldier fought around twenty Saracens. Many of them had been thrown off their beast and held to the ground, their weapons had been confiscated, and the prisoners were regrouped.

Some men were still standing on their feet, but they were not powerful enough to keep up. The cloud of dust that had formed due to the fight had begun to settle down, and now the people in Kerak could clearly see in the distance. Very few lives had been lost, both armies had managed to preserve their men, but Balian’s soldiers were at the mercy of the Saracens.

Sibylla’s maid put a hand on her shoulder, noticing how distressed her mistress was.

Once all the men had been regrouped, there was a moment where nothing happened. There seemed to be a discussion going on, but it was unclear if it was among the Muslim leaders or between both armies. That moment stretched out to minutes, to the point where it felt like it would not end. Aspasia shoots a look behind her shoulder; Reynald de Chatillon could not care less about what happened, he was peeling his second orange, his face as red as before.

“What?” he asked Aspasia stupidly. She rolled her eyes and looked back at the battlefield.

Balian was somewhere in that crowd. Did he survive? Was he hurt? Even Aspasia began worrying about his well-being. “Where are the King and the army?” she groaned under her breath. They should have arrived. What was taking them so long?

In the far, far distance, black dots appeared on the valleys. These dots multiplied and got darker. Then, they approached, and from these black dots, there were flags and banners in various colours. Cold shivers ran down her back. If the army was enough to cover valleys, how many men could the Sultan have gathered? Saracen horns roared in the distance. The Sultan was among his troops, and he has arrived.

“Saladin,” confirmed Sibylla. She squinted her eyes slightly as if she knew what type of man he was. Aspasia had heard rumours. If those were true, Kerak would be whipped out, and Saladin would strike for Jerusalem next.

“The King will arrive here too late,” Aspasia whispered, trying her best to hold in her tears.

“Shush, my brother will get here.”

“How do you know that? He has not arrived yet, and Balian cannot hold two hundred thousand men off.”

“Just trust me on this one,” Sibylla argued, “I know my brother well. He will not disappoint us. He was always there when we needed him.”

It pained Aspasia to hear this. If what Sibylla had said was true, King Baldwin must have been a saint, to be there to protect those who are and are not capable of protecting themselves, even with his illness. How often has he had people running at his aid when he needed his help the most? When was the last time that Sibylla took over his work so that he could rest and recuperate?

Sibylla did not lie when she said her brother would never fail to come and save them. The Muslim army had approached Kerak but the Christian army, holding the Holy Cross, advanced. Like little precious stones in the distance, their armours shined and reflected the light of the Sun. The troops were divided by factions and orders, their flags and banners up in the air. The King must have been riding his horse somewhere in the front. Aspasia could not distinguish him from the other horsemen.

The Christian army and the Muslim army stopped at an equal distance from Balian’s men. One grey horse in particular – Zephyr – advanced toward the Muslim leader, followed by a few other knights. Then, only Zephyr walked completely to the middle to meet with the other leader.

From the Muslim side, a black horse, almost untamed but noble and majestic, met up with the King, its rider wearing black clothes that covered him from head to toe. They stopped and seemed to be talking. Aspasia could only guess what they were saying. Was the King going to negotiate peace directly this time? Was Saladin going to accept such demands after carrying his army across the desert and preparing for battle? Surely, Saladin had his own counsellors who could pressure him into declaring war.

Time passed, the two armies were static, the leaders were consulting each other. Aspasia began to shake a bit but clenched her fists to prevent that from showing. There was nowhere to run if war broke loose. They were surrounded by desert.

“Do you think Saladin will accept to turn around and leave?” she asked Sibylla. Sibylla did not answer her, however. Aspasia looked at the princess’s eyes. She had a lot of faith in her brother’s abilities. He was proven to be a good fighter and an even better negotiator. Perhaps the Sultan would take pity on the poor leper and walk away.

After what seemed like an eternity, the black horse walked back to the Muslim army while Zephyr headed towards the fortress. As Saladin rejoined his troops, his men picked up their weapons that their soldiers had dropped and turned around. Balian’s men picked up their own, climbed on their horses and headed to the stand with the Christian army.

The King, with his own knights, rode to Kerak, while the rest waited outside. Men on horses were positioned outside the gates, creating a corridor. Zephyr slowed down and trotted steadily. Templar and Hospitaller soldiers stood like statues inside the fortress, sword at their hip and shield in front of them.

“Go,” Aspasia told Reynald, who had just decided to stand up and see what happened. “I think you are required downstairs.”

The cleric gently pushed Reynald to move when he began shouting ‘I am Reynald de Chatillon’ as if rules could not be applied to him. Sibylla followed him, and Aspasia and her maid joined them right after. The nervousness, the fear and the excitement of seeing King Baldwin well and victorious made Aspasia’s heart flutter.


	30. Reynald de Chatillon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King arrives at the fortress of Kerak and needs to deal with Reynald.

Balian and some of his men arrived and moved underneath a shadow, near a wall. His eyes locked with Sibylla, who stood in the archway. The princess smiled at him, rejoicing to see him well. Balian brought his hand to his chest and lifted to his lips a necklace, the medallion on it was possibly a gift from Sibylla. There was something awfully sweet about it that made Aspasia dream of such love for herself. She cleared her throat to catch Sibylla’s attention, and the princess looked at her and giggled silently. Aspasia smiled and shifted her gaze to another man on the other side of the courtyard, who stood in the Sun with his own knights. The Templar uniform did not make him stick out. Guy looked at Balian, a jealous look in his eyes. He must have noticed how Balian looked lovingly at Sibylla and how his own wife loved another knight.

Through the crowd arrived Reynald. Loud and boisterous, he said loud enough for everyone to hear him: “You would have given me more mouths the feed and more shit to throw over the wall. You have a great deal to learn about sieges.” Aspasia sent him an annoyed look. He must have drunk the last of the wine before coming downstairs. This was not something meant for the crowd to hear. Speaking with such a language in front of a King was as good as openly insulting him. The realization did not hit Reynald, who marched firmly and proudly to meet the King. “But that was magnificent.”

The King’s horse stops at the center of the courtyard. All eyes were set on the King. Behind him, near the gates, arrived Tiberias. The count climbed off his horse quietly as to not attract attention to him. He seemed to be feeling better, Aspasia noted. She was happy he had managed to arrive at Kerak on his own and help in what way he could. He and another servant walked to the King and helped him climb down Zephyr. The horse lowered its head and neck for the King to pass his leg over. It looked incredibly painful to do so and think that he had travelled from Jerusalem on horseback; this must have cost him a lot of effort and taken all his strength. This was the first time Aspasia saw him wear his battle gear. His clothes were light blue this time, and he wore a net around his head. His neck, arms and legs were covered in bandages, but his mask, although it did not include human features, was decorated in a beautiful flowery design, which gave him back some of his beauty.

Walking to Reynald, the King dragged himself there and removed his turban, then dropped it on the ground. In his hand, he carried a stick to beat the horse, and his sword hung at his hip. Aspasia looked at him, big eyes and heart beating. _Did he see her in the crowd?_ she asked herself. Possibly not. He was focused on the man who was going to be held responsible for all of this. Aspasia had blended in the crowd and did not require attention. She looked at the princess, who attempted to move quietly more to the front. From where Reynald was standing, the crowd could only see the King’s back. Reynald grinned at the King and bowed the way he would have bowed at a guest. Had he not sobered up yet? Could he even comprehend what was happening? He seemed to enjoy the attention he was getting. Guy, on the other hand, observed quietly what was taking place, much like everyone else.

Shockingly, the King lifted his hand to his face and removed the mask. Aspasia’s heart stopped beating when the mask, in his hand, faced back at her. Reynald seemed to go through several emotions in order; first, there was confusion, realization, and then shock. What did he see exactly? Why did the King show his face to him?

“I … am Jerusalem.” As he stepped forward, he unwrapped one of his hands. He then removed the glove of the hand that seemed in the best condition, for, although his fingers were bony and crippled, they still looked like fingers. Patches of raw skin and spots of different pigmentation caught Aspasia’s eyes. “Will you give me the kiss of peace, Reynald?”

Then he held out his ruined hand, a red ruby ring that remained on his finger. Reynald looked at it as if he was debating whether he should kiss the hand or the ring. He then almost jumped on the King’s hand, grabbing it in his own and kissing it loudly and sloppily. In disgust, the King pulled his hand away and, with the horse stick, beat him. Again, again and again. She expected Reynald to squeal like a pig, but he took the beating quietly. Was he going to blame Guy de Lusignan for the raid? After all, if he did that, the King would have to focus then on his brother-in-law. Aspasia searched with her eyes for Guy, who had his back turned on Reynald. She then looked for Sibylla, who had disappeared from her side. Her maid was still standing behind her. The woman understood that Aspasia looked for the princess and pointed toward the front. The princess had managed to pave a path through the crowd. She was very close to Reynald and her brother from where she stood, almost close enough to see his face.

When the beating was over, the King put his gloves back on and attempted to tie the bandages around his hand. He looked slightly to the left and saw Sibylla standing there, and she stared back at him. Almost unnoticed, Sibylla froze in her spot and took a step back when her brother reached out a hand to her, recoiling from him. His hand froze mid-air, and then he dropped it. He bent slightly to pick his mask, which had fallen on the ground, dusted it off and placed it on his face. When he turned around, Aspasia saw the familiar masked face which he always showed the world.

Reynald was still on the ground, low and head facing down. King Baldwin attempted to walk back to his horse in the most natural way. When the King almost fainted, Aspasia stepped out of the crowd and was ready to run at his side in a heartbeat. His own servant had caught him instead, as they stood a few feet away from him. They helped the King stand up. Tiberias approached them to make sure they could carry him and then turned to face Reynald.

Aspasia was the only one in the crowd who had stepped out to come at the aid of the King. She realized she looked stupid to others because she was to them just a simple commoner. The painful realization that she was not as close as she thought to the King hit her. She was closer to the Princess; in fact, why would she embarrass herself like this?

“Out of the way,” she was told in a harsh tone by one of the servants who carried the King. She realized she was standing stupidly in the center, not being a help to anyone. The King had not said a word to her. Perhaps he did not even notice her. A soft hand grabbed her by the elbow. It was Sibylla’s maid who led her back to the side. Her face felt hot from embarrassment. She watched the King being carried to a litter. His servants set him there to be comfortable and proceeded to administer him his medication through the hole in the mouth of his mask.

Tiberias had stepped in to handle Reynald. The red-haired man grimaced and asked: “what are you looking at?”

“A dead man,” Tiberias answered, “Reynald of Chatillon, you are arrested and condemned.”

Some guards carried Reynald away.

Aspasia looked at Balian, who was looking at the King. The monarch was looking back at the knight and nodded his head in approval. It seemed natural that the King would congratulate his favourite knight for having shown courage in the face of the enemy, but something in Aspasia’s heart still hurt. She knew it was selfish of her to wish to have special treatment when what she has done was not particularly bold. What she did was simply the right thing to do. It did not deserve any special praise. The thought that the King may still be mad at her for what she had done in the courtroom crossed her mind. Could he hold a grudge against her? King Baldwin did not seem to be the type to do that. Aspasia simply bit her lip and watched that interaction between Balian and the King.

When the King’s litter was lifted, and the horses began moving, the bed he was placed in shook a bit. The horses made a turn outside the gates, and for a brief second, she thought their eyes had met.


	31. Your Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sibylla noticed that Aspasia is not acting like herself around the King. She warns her that his disease might be the doom of both of them if Aspasia is not careful.

Saladin had promised the King he would be sending him his personal physicians and he did so. The physicians had arrived on horseback in the following days and they were brought inside the palace and led to the King’s quarters. The Saracens were more advanced in medicine than the Christians, but it was unlikely they would be capable of curing King Baldwin’s leprosy, especially at such an advanced stage. Aspasia watched the men dressed in white robes walk past her and head toward the King’s apartments, tools and medical manuals in their hands.

Aspasia did not dare bring into a conversation the topic of leprosy with Sibylla. The princess had not spoken about her brother’s true face and based on her reaction when she discovered it, it was not something she would very much enjoy speaking of. Aspasia would have asked her what he looked like, but she was conflicted. Would it not violate his privacy? Would that change her perspective of him? She was not as close to him as she thought she was, so perhaps she should not search to see his face. In the past days, she had been thinking of him quite often. She thought it was because she was bored and so she would keep herself busy, either teaching Sibylla how to fight or how to speak Greek. The princess had progressed well enough to be able to hold a casual conversation in Greek and could listen and comprehend spoken Greek.

After an afternoon at training at how to yield a sword, Sibylla crashed down, tired and sweaty. Aspasia handed her a towel to use to wipe her forehead. “I find that progress is slow,” admitted Sibylla. “Not that I expect to fight like a knight, but I was hoping I would do more than that.” Aspasia raised her eyebrows and clicked her tongue. When she was younger, in Macedonia, she was at some point the most unexperienced fighter among the Templars. She thought the exact same thing. Akakios would not train her. He would take her in a more isolated place and beat her. That tactic of his continued until Aspasia had had enough of it and had placed strategically a large solid stick in the place where he always brought her, and she used that stick to beat him herself. That day, the roles had reversed, and Aspasia left with only a few scratches, while Akakios was bleeding from several places.

“Trust me, you do not want to go and learn how to fight when you have not mastered the basis,” Aspasia explained. “I would rather see that you can defend yourself using anything you can find around you because one day, you may be attacked, and you won’t have a sword with you.”

“Alright, alright, I understand. Can we continue this lesson tomorrow, please? I have a party to attend tonight and I do not want to be stumbling due to back pains.” Aspasia helped the princess stand up and together they headed back to their respective rooms. Sibylla sent Aspasia a worried look, noticing that the young woman, who was usually eager to chat, was unusually quiet this time. Whenever that happened, Aspasia was keeping in something. “Is everything alright? Perhaps you would like to talk.”

Aspasia shrugged. “Things have not been alright, ever since Kerak, but I can say that about everyone.” Sibylla did not need a reminder of her reaction when she saw her brother’s face. Aspasia felt his pain when his own sister pulled back when he extended his hand at her, but she could not scold Sibylla, not after what happened last time when she lashed out. Furthermore, Aspasia could not guess what Sibylla saw and how Aspasia would have reacted if she had been the one in Sibylla’s position.

“You know, I noticed lately that …” Sibylla started, “I don’t know how to put it, but you are not been acting like yourself around my brother. Or maybe you have been acting _more_ like yourself than usual… Do you understand what I am trying to say?”

Aspasia froze.

“What? No, I – “

“- It’s alright!” Sibylla reassured her, “you do not have to be shy.”

“Sibylla don’t get me wrong! I-I, huh…”

The princess laughed. She then patted her back amicably. “So, my intuition was right?”

“Right? About what? Please be clear, Sibylla.”

Sibylla laughed some more. “You know very well what I am talking about. You had such a strong reaction; you know exactly what I am speaking of. What is this face you are making just now? Speak to me, Aspasia! I will not judge you! In fact, I find you quite adorable and likeable, I am surprised you do not have a man in your life right now.”

“I don’t know. Something about me just scares all the men away. Maybe it’s the hidden blades, we will never know. But in all seriousness, have you ever imagined me as the type of girl who would ever find romance? Get married? Settle down, in a lovely home? I have done nothing but create trouble and get people on my back. I don’t think I have the luxury of wanting such things.”

“And neither did I,” replied Sibylla, “I was young when I married my first husband, I was nineteen, and not long after, I had my son, Baldwin. My husband was not my true love, but he was a respectable man who had many beautiful qualities and took care of me. When he died, I had to remarry, which is how I met Guy. I thought that I was going to be stuck in a loveless marriage until I met Balian. Sure, maybe you are not willing to compromise, but I think are one of the sincerest friends I ever had, and I see good things in you. I am sure if you can put them forward with me, we can put them forward with others.”

“That’s… very nice of you to say,” Aspasia blushed. “I think it is inappropriate for me to hope some from your brother. I am just a commoner, a foreigner. You are of royal blood, and I think the world would frown upon me. Not that King Baldwin has these same feelings for me. I respect him for he is wise, merciful and humble, perhaps all of these are qualities I lack myself, but it is easy to love the first woman that comes to you when you have not had the opportunity to meet others.”

“It is less about the status than about what you add to his life,” rectified Sibylla, “I know you and I can imagine what type of man would suit you best. Aspasia, I am not saying this to hurt you; you know my brother is dying and that leprosy is contagious. If you are already beginning to develop feelings, I think it is best you put a stop to it or else you will get hurt, or worse: sick. I repeat, my intention is not to bring you pain, but this is the reality: he will never be able to marry, even less have children, The King already has a soft spot for you, but guard your heart, my friend.”

Aspasia took her word into consideration. In fact, she thought about Sibylla’s advice long and hard. The princess was right, Aspasia needed someone like the King, who was patient and tolerant, to be able to put up with her. Her heart ached whenever she thought of how it would be impossible to get closer to him. She knew, at least in the back of her mind, that everything Sibylla had said was true and that she had to look elsewhere, but she simply could not. She loved the man so much, she did not care about what his face looked like, she was convinced she could not be repulsed by it.

Days have gone by since that discussion and Aspasia and Sibylla continued their routine. As none of them have seen or spoken to King Baldwin since Reynald’s public humiliation, this led Aspasia to worry even more. She thought that she had underestimated his pain, or perhaps he was too humiliated to walk outside, after the reaction his own sister had when she saw his face. She thought maybe it would make him feel better if at least he knew that one woman did not mind how he looked, but in reality, nothing mattered more than family, no matter how dysfunctional and broken his family was. If only Sibylla would have accepted to offer a hand to the physicians and pay, her brother a visit.

One evening, when Aspasia had some free time on her hands, she decided to go see how the King was doing. It must have been another one of her bad ideas to go and visit him. It was late in the evening and there was no way he was being consulted by a physician. Sleeping, perhaps, but at least he would be there alone, and Aspasia would not have to deal with the Muslim doctors. She walked through the corridors, standing near the walls, if she ever needed to hide. Soon, she was standing in front of the familiar doors, but they were open. Aspasia tiptoed in. A few candles had been lit, but otherwise, the room was very quiet and empty. The chess game which she played with King Baldwin was still at the table.

She looked around the room. The physicians had taken their tools and walked out. The room smelled of oils, used to treat leprosy but their efficiency was questionable. As she walked quietly through the apartments, she soon reached what appeared to be the bedroom. There, a figure laid in the bed. She stopped before taking another step and looked at the body. The King laid on his back, one hand by the side of his body and the other on his stomach. Aspasia sighed to herself. He looked like he was breathing fine, but did he sleep with his mask? He must have taken an opiate to help him relax like this. She would have regretted waking him up. She was about to turn around and walk away when a faint voice said aloud: “who is there?”

Aspasia stopped from her tracks. “It is me, my lord,” she simply replied. The King recognized her. He pushed himself up slightly and adjusted the mask on his face.

“How did you get here?”

“The doors were open, my lord.”

Nodding to it, he relaxed his shoulders and looked at her. Aspasia had to stop herself from staring back at him. She was the one who approached him, she had to be the one to want to strike a conversation.

“May I come in? I know it is late, but I have not seen you in the past days and I have been worried.”

“Yes, you may.”

Aspasia walked onto the carpeted floor. The bedroom looked so spacious, a big bed with many covers, nothing she had ever possessed in her life compared to it. She took her sweet time to get to his bed, looking around at the furniture in the room, the part of his apartments which she has never seen before. King Baldwin watched her in silence, and with his hand, showed her a chair which she could use to sit. She brought the chair by the bedside and sat down. “We have not finished that chess game we started,” she laughed. It was a sorry attempt at making a conversation. She felt stupid for bringing it up, even. Perhaps the King had even forgotten about it. “If you are too tired, I can come to visit you on another occasion. Just say the word, and I will be on my way.”

The King kept looking at her. Aspasia began to feel more and more stupid. Had she done the right thing? Did he want to see her? He would have said something by now if he did. They made eye contact at Kerak, when he was carried away by his men. Or was it just an impression she had? Aspasia blamed herself for even coming there when clearly the King would have much rather seen his own sister. They needed to have a talk, heart to heart, Sibylla could not lose her brother without setting matters straight.

“I appreciate you coming to see me,” the King said, but it was just politeness.

“I know I am not the one you wished to have seen,” Aspasia admitted, “but Sibylla is a mother, and perhaps even the future regent, and she cannot take the risk of catching the disease. Please do not get mad at her and do not take it as an offence. She may not overtly show it but she is suffering as well, perhaps just as much as you, and she deals with her worries in a way that may seem unconventional. If you wish me to speak to her, I can do that for you, because I know how to be convincing – “

“- Thank you, but my relationship with my sister has been like this ever since my father was told that I am a leper. I am not angry at her, actually. Please, let us talk about something else.”

Aspasia bit her lower lip nervously. Did that mean he wanted her there? She was unsure. The King looked tired and bored at the same time. If he was about to go to sleep, he would have taken off his mask. She looked down at her feet. King noticed she had not said a single word and cleared his throat. “Did you have any dreams when you were just a little girl?” he asked her.

“No, I was not ambitious. And I could not project myself in the future either,” Aspasia admitted. “I think I wanted to continue living in my hometown, take over my mother’s textile shop and make more money by selling it in Byzantium. But I would say that was more of an expectation of me than a dream.”

The King had not moved in his bed, but his eyes stared up at the ceiling. She followed his gaze and looked at the designs on the walls. Now that she had given it a bit of thought, she realized how lamentable it was to not be able to answer such a simple question.

“My dream would be nothing compared to the one of a king…”

“Don’t underestimate the impact you can have on the world, no matter how insignificant your life can feel at the moment.”

“That is kind of you to say, my lord.”

“Why can you not go back to that life?”

“The shop was taken by the state, and I had to move to go live with my father.”

“Oh, I see. So,” he continued, “your priorities and your objectives changed.”

Aspasia nodded. “I will return that question to you,” she proceeded, “it is more interesting in the dreams of a king.”

“I want to create a kingdom of peace and conscious, where people of all religions can live together, but I fear my life may be too short and my enemies are waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.”

Aspasia exhaled quietly. Considering the state of affairs, it seemed like no one was fighting for peace. She was not even sure if, quite frankly, peace could be obtained before her own death. Years of war would follow. She would have asked him if it was achievable, but she was convinced he too knew the answer to that. Aspasia’s eyes set on his mask. The King had managed to make Jerusalem a welcoming city to all, and Balian and Tiberias have worked on their end to allow that to happen. People like Guy or Reynald or even Saladin would never cease to exist, but at least the threat could be contained. People like Phillip had tried to disrupt that peace, those like him had to be stopped.

“You have already exceeded the expectations of your enemies, but also your friends. Let us pray God that your reign may last many more years, and you will lead this kingdom one step closer to your dream.”

The King blinked slowly, tiredly. Aspasia took this as a sign of thanks.

“And I would be very proud to be able to have a small hand in helping you change the world for the better. I hope you don’t mind that I also consider this to be my dream now.”

There was another slow blink, and finally, the King closed his eyes. He was still awake but slowly drifting to sleep. Aspasia stood up from the chair and placed it back where she found it. The King had sensed her move but did not open his eyes. “I shall leave you for the night,” Aspasia whispered, “I am happy I had the opportunity to talk to you.” Before leaving, Aspasia stopped by the door and sent him one last look. He must have fallen asleep by now. He had not taken off his mask, but she did not dare do that for him. Too bad. The King would wake up later in the night and take it off himself once he realized he had slept with it.


	32. An Attempt on my Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As soon as Aspasia returns to her room, she learns that she is not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter, but necessary to be written on it's own!

The castle was never entirely dark at night.

On her way to her room, every passage was lit by a torch. Over the long period of time when Aspasia was here, she had become accustomed to the different animals and insects that lived in the night. Many of them were not the same as the ones in Macedonia, although the climate was not so much different. Once the sun set, the city was cold, and that cold was more prominent in the desert. That evening, Aspasia had forgotten to bring with her a shawl to cover her shoulders.

When she had left the King’s apartments, she felt a mixture of happiness and sadness. King Baldwin, in another sense, was lucky enough to have a family that still supported him – or rather depended on him. When Aspasia’s mother died, she was handed to her father and from that point onward, never had someone who she could trust and rely on. She remembered the promise she made to herself at the Holy Sepulchre – to protect this family with all she had. She was convinced in herself, for the first time in ages, that she was going to keep that promise no matter what.

Aspasia returned to her room for the evening. As she stepped inside, she closed the door behind her and walked to the bed. A maid had come during the day and changed the sheets – they smelled of freshly cleaned, and some smelling perfumes of lavender had been sprayed earlier in the day. As she took off her slippers and opened the covers of her bed, a soft hot puff of hair on the back of her neck. She instantly spun on her heels, but something wrapped itself around her throat and pushed her against the bed. Aspasia struggled to break free, but the two hands that held onto her tightened their grip. She began to punch, kick, writhe. Tears build up in the corner of her eyes and she could not let out any scream. In the dark, she managed to spot the figure that hovered over her. Were they trying to suffocate her? Aspasia would soon lose all her strength and that intruder could put an end to her. This only motivated her to move even more.

“Let, g-g-go!” She managed to word out. She kicked the man in the knee, once, then twice, and finally, she kicked him in the thigh. The man almost let go of her and Aspasia took that opportunity to jump on him and pin him to the ground. The two bodies felt loudly on the floor, Aspasia managed to sit on top of him, on his torso and put her own hands on his throat. “LAST TIME WAS NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU? ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS?? BDELYRÒS!! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ENOUGH TO TEACH YOU A LESSON!!!”

The intruder managed to pull a punch and push Aspasia to the side. She rolled on her body and immediately got up. Knees slightly bent, positioned and ready to fight, she pulled her sleeves up and exposed the hidden blades.

“What do you want and where are you from?”

No answer. The intruder moved a bit into the light. His uniform was dark, but he wore a piece of fabric over it that was cream in colour with red symbols, very similar to the Templar’s red cross. Could he be part of the order? It could not be a knight; knights were nowhere near as agile and silent as this man. The fear that he might have come from Macedonia made Aspasia tremble. Had they found her, perhaps?

“You don’t talk??”

A knight would have puffed, cursed or made any sound after making physical efforts. This man was trained to be swift and silent. Aspasia had been trained to be just like that by her father and Akakios. She squinted her eyes. She had to know _something_ about her attacker. Was he Greek or was he native of this land?

“Proséxte, sta aristerá sas.” As she warned him in Greek that she was about to throw a blow on the left, she aimed right instead. The man did not see the attack coming and left the right side of his body exposed. The blade sliced through the fabric and cut the flesh. Blood began dripping onto the carpet.

Footsteps were heard from across the hallway and in a matter of seconds, the door was opened and, in the doorway, stood Tiberias with two other guards. The intruder sprinted to the balcony and disappeared. Tiberias turned to his men and shouted some orders. The guards ran out of the room and Tiberias hurried to Aspasia when she pushed him away and almost ran to the balcony as well to chase after the intruder.

“ASPASIA STOP RIGHT NOW.”

He grabbed her by the wrist. She almost felt down, tripping, and her wrist made a cracking noise. “LET GO! I HAVE TO CATCH HIM! HE’S NOT FAR AWAY!”

“ASPASIA STOP!”

By the time Tiberias let go of her, Aspasia realized her attacker was already too far to be caught. She cursed under her breath and almost pushed Tiberias out of the way.

“Aspasia! Where are you going?” Tiberias called after her.

“Leave me alone.”

“Aspasia, listen to me – “

“- STOP FOLLOWING ME.”

Tiberias quickly shushed her.

“With the amount of noise you are making, even the King will wake up –“

“- the King is awake,” said a voice.

Towards them walked the figure of the King. He adjusted the hood of his cloak over his head. Aspasia froze in her spot. He was supposed to be sleeping. He walked slowly, along the walls, still tired. Tiberias saw that the young woman was about to run off, and he caught her by the forearm and brought her back, almost in an embrace.

“The man was Greek,” Aspasia said, “and none of the Templars who are here are Greek. Do you know what that means?”

“Calm down Aspasia, calm down, please! Look at him, calm down! I know it must have been scary.”

“No, no, you don’t understand,” Aspasia protested, “they are coming after me. Me. That man that was here, you saw him! He had the uniform of a Templar! He did that on purpose, for me to see!"

"That, we don't know. Maybe he stole a uniform from a knight."

"No, I doubt it," she shook her head, trying to suppress a cry, "I am not sure if this man is the same one who attacked us last time. He was in good shape and healthy, the other one, I had left him with cuts and bruises. I cannot main here, or they will try to harm someone else to get to me.”

“Aspasia, breath in, slow down,” prompted the King, “he’s not coming back-“

“- AND THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WAS TOLD LAST TIME BUT HERE WE ARE, I WAS ABOUT TO BE SUFFOCATED TO DEATH IN MY OWN ROOM!”

She pushed Tiberias away and spun on her heels. Her hand on her waist, where the red jewel was kept hidden on the inside of her belt, she prepared a few sets of clothes, a few of her weapons, and prepares to leave. She swung a leg over the balustrade, then the other, and was about to jump when King Baldwin and Tiberias walked in the room.

“Aspasia.”

She froze when the King called her name.

“Please don’t go after the attacker.”

She dropped her shoulders heavily. “Not tonight,” she agreed, “but I will have to go after him one day, if not now.” How could they not realize that her being there would bring more harm to the royal family? She was not willing to put them at risk.

Almost as if he wanted to calm her, the King said: “I understand your fear. They know where you stay. Please don’t go about and do anything irrational.”

She looked over her shoulder, the King had been standing in the middle of the room, hands extended toward her as if he was pleading her. She squinted her eyes. He had enough worries about the troubles in his kingdom and his relationship with his own family, Aspasia did not wish to add any more to that. She nodded her head and prepared to jump, there was a stack of hay underneath the balcony.

“If you need a horse, take one. If you want someone to accompany you, I will send two guards to take you somewhere safe. Ibelin is your best option, Balian will welcome you and give you a room for the night. He will make sure no one comes to you”

“I … will consider it.”

With that, she threw her bag first and watched it fall. When she knew it had hit the ground, she let go of the baluster and jumped as well.


	33. Easter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balian advises Aspasia to deal with her problem before the damage is done, only Aspasia did not expect her problem to come to find her so soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late update, I have no excuses. I was stressed out with my summer classes, but here I managed to squeeze in this chapter. Slightly shorter but very important for the story. Enjoy!

Over the course of the night, Aspasia had travelled on horseback to Ibelin just like the King had suggested her, but without any company. She arrived at Balian’s mansion a few hours before sunrise. One of the maids working there had woken up due to the sound of a horse galloping and headed downstairs to welcome the new visitor. She recognized Aspasia and immediately went to her aid. Her horse was put with the others in the stables and she prepared the woman a room, with clothes for the night and for the next day. Aspasia fell asleep as soon as her face touched the pillow and only woke up the next day past noon when the same maid had come with a tray full of food, thinking that either Aspasia was too shy to come out or still asleep.

After having eaten and changed her clothes, she walked outside the mansion, searching for Balian. The sun was burning the harshest at that time of day, most men had left the fields to rest until the temperature would decrease a bit and they gathered in gardens and homes to share a meal. Aspasia found the baron with a few of his men eating at a table in a back garden, where vines grew around a wooden structure and kept a cool shade. One man was playing with a dog, throwing a stick for it to chase it and bring it back. When Balian saw Aspasia standing there, by the door, he called her name and invited her to sit on the empty seat next to him. As Aspasia sat down, the dog lost its focus on the stick and ran to Aspasia, resting its head on her lap. Aspasia welcomed the dog with a smile, ruffling the fur and playing with the floppy ears.

“You left Jerusalem late in the night yesterday,” said Balian, “why the rush?”

Aspasia picked up a stick from the floor and threw it for the dog to fetch. She then cleared her throat and said: “there was an intruder last night, a Templar, I think. He was Greek, so he’s no ordinary knight. Perhaps even here on his own accord.”

“So, they must be after you.”

“Yes.”

“And you left the palace to keep the royal family safe? Was it the King who sent you here?”

“I had no other choice. He said it was the only place where I was going to be safe since you are here.”

Balian nodded his head. “It is true. They will have much more trouble finding you in Ibelin. Most Templars do not travel until here, so you are safe for now. Besides, I will not let anyone attack any of the people living here, nor my guests.”

The dog had brought back Aspasia the stick, covered in saliva. Aspasia dangled it in her hands with an expression of disgust and threw it back. The dog ran after it and set it at her feet for her to pick up and throw again.

“I don’t even know what to do,” Aspasia confessed, “I was happy with my life there. I have made good friends, and now everyone is in danger until I deal with this issue.”

Little by little, the men in the interior garden left, either back to work or to their own house. There was only Balian and Aspasia left there, Aspasia had not touched the food on the table for she had already eaten, but Balian finished his place in silence. From time to time, a maid would arrive to check on them, either bring something to drink or see if they wanted more food. The dog, after playing for a few times, laid on the hard ground that was cool, near Aspasia’s and Balian’s feet.

“I don’t suppose you would want my opinion on this matter,” Balian said, breaking the silence.

Aspasia massaged the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Actually, this time yes. Any piece of advice – any good in fact – is welcomed. I am very lost, and if I were to follow my own intuition, it would lead me astray, on a path that only ends in bloodbaths and murder.” _Oh dear_ , Aspasia thought, _here I go, talking like King Baldwin and using the metaphor of the path to speaking on life_. Balian maybe has noticed it, for there was a small smile on the corner of his lips.

“In that case…” Balian proceeded, “your past is almost like a wound that has not been cleaned and patched up: bad things have been happening, some of which were imposed onto you, others which you have brought onto yourself. You know that wounds risk getting infected if you let them be, so the longer you wait, the worst it is going to get. If you can deal with it quickly, do it, and do it right. These men who are after you will be back, so deal with them and stop them from harming those you care about as soon as you have the opportunity. Be ready at all times to strike.”

“So, you are going to speak in metaphors, just like me, no?” Aspasia joked.

Balian laughed, seeing he was following that trend. “Alright Aspasia, I am glad to see you are happy. But in all seriousness, I have no idea what you have done in the past, you have always been very secretive about it, but I can tell that they must be very dedicated to getting to you.”

Aspasia coughed awkwardly.

“Are you going to speak about it or is this issue off-limits?”

She whipped her sweaty hands on her dress.

“I would rather not speak about it. Don’t take it personally.”

Balian nodded his head. At that moment, another maid walked in and when she noticed that the baron’s plate and cup were empty, she asked him if he wished anything else, to which Balian replied no. The maid cleared the table and Balian led Aspasia inside the mansion. “You are a guest,” he said, “but no ordinary guest. If you stay, I will have to ask you to work.”

“Of course. I can do anything you ask me.”

He wanted to offer her a job with the other women – cleaning, cooking, washing – but she was willing to work in the fields as well. The hot sun burned the land, and no one left for work until in the late afternoon. Aspasia joined the women and helped them wash and whiten the sheets and shirts. When everything was hung to dry, the moved onto cleaning the rooms, the garden, then cooking. Time passed slowly when Aspasia was busy working. The night fell upon them and everyone had gathered in Balian’s gardens to eat, sing and dance by a fire. Aspasia looked around at the families, all gathered together. They were going to celebrate Easter together, with their loved ones. Only she had no one who to celebrate with. She had not had a proper Easter ever since her mother had died – she would go with her to church and then have dinner with relatives. The table would be filled with all sorts of pastries and dishes that were typical of their country. It was always a sunny day, Aspasia remembered. It was only when she had to go live with her father that it was a cloudy day during Easter, almost like a representation of her state of mind. That day was a day of rest, but no celebration and dinner. Only a few Templars would patrol to ensure the safety of the region on that day. As an Orthodox Christian herself, she was somehow unfamiliar with the way Catholics celebrated Easter but had a few ideas based on stories and stereotypes she had heard.

She would have remained in Ibelin to see but felt as if she was a stranger to everyone except Balian and she would feel out of place as a result. She had thought long and hard about what to do. Dealing with those who were after her was a priority. Balian had advised her to prepare for any eventual confrontation, and Aspasia agreed. Her objective was to find who was after her. Akakios promised her that her father would keep looking for her, but was he so dedicated to sending someone in foreign lands just to bring back and troublemaker daughter? That sounded unprobeable. Did her father know anything about the red jewel? There was nothing fancy about it – there were far more precious stones on the market and the knights did not need anything luxurious for their life was spent fighting or training. Besides, the Templars were both knights and monks, so luxury was not important to them. Akakios did not seem to care too much about the jewel, he had not kept it in a place that was safe, like a jewelry box or even less in a necklace. Did he even have the answers Aspasia was looking for? Likely not. Akakios was a stupid man, who only sucked up to Aspasia’s father hoping to be his favourite Templar knight. He despised Aspasia just as much as she despised him and was not afraid to overtly show it, even in front of her own father.

The next day, Aspasia woke up before dawn and decided that Ibelin was not going to be enough for her – at least not for long. It was a welcoming place because Balian had made it so, but there was nothing there for her to cultivate. Her life was in Jerusalem now, with Sibylla, King Baldwin, and their family. Even Tiberias, whom she had grown to tolerate. She packed her items to leave and Balian accompanied her to bid her farewell. “Thank you for your words of wisdom,” Aspasia thanked him, “who knew that underneath your good looks, you also had a brain.”

Balian raised his eyebrows and laughed. This insult amused him more than anything. “You would be surprised to learn that, not only am I ‘good-looking’ and I ‘have a brain’ but I am also kind and can appreciate your fine sense of humour.”

“Good. Few people do.”

The path to Jerusalem was quiet in the morning and very few caravans of pilgrims travelled at this time of day. In a matter of hours, Aspasia had traversed the desert on horseback and made it to the gates of the city before there was traffic. People had gathered in the streets and the piazzas for the holiday and the shops were particularly busy. As she passed in front of the hospital she had stayed when she arrived, her heart ached at the thought of Sister Bertha, who had died a painful death by the hands of her enemies. Aspasia had a hunch that the next person to suffer will be closer to her than the nun was. She managed to navigate the city on horseback and made it to the Holy Sepulchre, the place where she knew she was going to find the King and Sibylla. The Patriarch was doing mass every Sunday and was present for Easter and based on the chants that were coming out of the church, Aspasia could guess which prayer was being chanted and how long it would be until it was over. It was not even mid-day yet so Aspasia would have to wait a bit before seeing everyone come out.

She stood by the road, stomping her feet and feeling impatient to see King Baldwin, Sibylla and Tiberias. Something had moved in a small alley, a person, and disappeared in another alley, perpendicular to that one. Aspasia squinted her eyes and kept her eyes on the spot where that figure stood before. She analyzed her position. She was standing in a small square in the city, near the Holy Sepulchre, where a few people passed by but otherwise, she was standing in the open, alone. Looking around her to make sure no one was watching her from the top of the buildings, she dropped her bag of belongings behind a vase with plants and penetrated the alley. As she moved in the shadow of a building, she put on the hood of her cloak and put her hands on her gauntlet, prepared to use her hidden blades. 

When she arrived at the end of the alley, she stopped her heart as well, and positioned herself alongside the wall, back against the cool stones. She slowly poked her head out to see if the individual was still there. A thought clicked in her. Why was she so keen at following that one in particular? Anyone could have used that path as a shortcut. Still, she had a feeling about it, like an itch.

There was a quick flash of something moving above her head. Her eyes shot up, looking at the rooftops. Something – someone – had moved. There was a body, then a cape, coloured in white. It was no ordinary person, not even an ordinary knight that could do such a thing. But Aspasia had a vague idea of what type of individual could do that. She began to sprint toward a pile of wooden boxes that had been disposed of in the alley, climbed onto a bar and threw her body up. While in mid-air, she grabbed onto a wood structure of the wall and pulled herself up. She managed to pass one leg up, then the other, and stood on the rooftops. The structure was angled and slippery. Aspasia looked in the direction of the figure, a man wearing a mask and a white cloak – the same as her attacker of the previous nights, and he looked back in her direction.

“YOU HAVE ME WHERE YOU WANTED,” she shouted, “COME ON, DON’T BE SHY, TAKE A SHOT AT ME.”

Her attacker did not reply but instead turned around and sprinted in the opposite direction. He parkoured over another rooftop, the two buildings were in proximity to each other, and Aspasia did not spend another second to be at his chase. She sprinted and rolled, jumped and slid, but she was always ten feet behind him, never close enough to catch him. As she ran, she asked herself if she was heading for a trap. The attacker was attempting to lead her further away from the Holy Sepulchre, where there was the royal family, the Patriarch of Jerusalem and Tiberias. Was it good? They would be far from danger. But was it also bad? They were the only ones capable of helping and saving Aspasia. She had to find out a way to lead the attacker back to the Holy Sepulchre. Mass will end soon.

Aspasia stopped in her tracks, her feet slipping but she caught her balance and proceeded to take a turn in a perpendicular direction. Her attacker wanted her attention, he would not let her run off without chasing after her. Too bad, his plan has failed but he will have to work around that. She managed to make him believe he was leading the chase when in fact she was the one who led him. At some point, the attacker had stopped, then he bent in two, hands on his knees, and there was a burst of laughter.

A burst of laughter.

It resonated oddly from within the mask. Aspasia remained at a safe distance, fearing he would jump on her if she was within arm-reach.

She panted from the exhaustion and looked at the man in confusion. She then pulled down her hood. “So you think this is a game, huh??” she said out of breath.

What surprised her was that the attacker replied and that he carried on the conversation in Greek: “you know, you always think you’re one step ahead, but you don’t know anything.”

Aspasia felt her chest rise up and down. She was unable to relax around that man, the blood in her veins pumping, and she was very much ready for action. Balian had advised her to be read, but she never expected it to be so soon.

The man removed his white cloak, the only part of the Templar uniform he wore. The white fabric was carried by the wind away. Aspasia watched it as it flew away. There was once upon a time where she also wore one like that, but she ditched it for clothes that were easier to blend in and dark colours.

“I did manage to make you reveal you’re Greek,” she pointed out. “Bet you did not plan to make your identity know just yet, that night.”

“True. It was a mistake from my part. That will not happen again, I can promise you that.”

There was a moment of silence. Aspasia scrutinized him. She tried to figure out if she knew him from Macedonia. He seemed a bit too knowledgeable about life in Jerusalem, the layout of the castle and the city, and the way of life here to be new to the city. Perhaps he had followed Aspasia since Greece?

“Why are you after me? What do you want?”

“You have something that I want, Aspasia.”

She clenched her fists. “Take off your mask. Show yourself. NOW.”

And so, he did. He brought his hands to his face, and lifted the metal plate, from which was carved a cross. The cloak fell back and exposed an olive skin that was very Mediterranean and blond curly locks. The sticking eyes she had met in the past looked back at her.

“How the fuck are you still alive, _Phillip_?” she spat.


	34. Familiar Face

Phillip, who was standing a few feet away from Aspasia, looked at his mask, twirled it in his hands, then threw it. The mask fell in an alley and hit the ground loudly. Aspasia looked at him and fell her hands tremble. This was her worst nightmare coming to life. Phillip had promised he would deal with her if she failed to kill Tiberias. Not only had she failed, but she also became close to him. Was this all about that? Did he resent her this much to make her life miserable?

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her, seeing that a thousand thoughts were crossing her mind as she starred in the void. “Are you shocked to see me?”

Aspasia shrugged.

“Sweetie, you’re not mute, say something.”

“You’re just as patronizing as I remembered you,” she puffed, bored at his taunting remarks. “Do you really want to know what I am thinking? Allow me to repeat myself then: _how the fuck are you still alive, Phillip_?”

“They said to you that they had caught me,” he referred to Tiberias and Sibylla.

“Yes.”

“And what else?”

“That they tortured you for information, but you would not speak. Then, you committed suicide by swallowing a poison pill you had.”

Phillip raised an eyebrow at her.

“That was not you, was it,” she continued. “You used a body-double to die in your spot, obviously. Shit, shit, shit. That’s why that Phillip they caught did not speak – he knew nothing. Fuck, he died for you! _Malaka!_ They buried the wrong guy; this whole time, it was the wrong guy! Fuck me, I should have asked to see the body! All of this could have been avoided if I just saw the body!!”

Phillip seemed to find amusement in Aspasia’s panic. She began cursing at him and at herself, switching from Greek to Macedonian.

“What do you want then? You want to punish me for the mission I failed to accomplish?”

“It is a bit late for me to do that, but I know you and I know how insufferable you are to most people, someone will take care of you one day or another.”

“You spoke about wanting something that I have.”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“Is it this?” she asked. Taking in her palm the little red jewel, she played with it in her fingers and showed it to Phillip. The stone shone beautifully under the sunlight. When she knew he had seen it properly, she placed it back inside her shirt, where it was safe.

“That, yes, is a very important piece to something much greater.”

“I picked it up from the body of a renown arsehole, if I may say, and it has no value of its own. I almost sold it when I had arrived in Jerusalem.”

“My dear, you are oblivious to the importance of this piece. People have fought for it for many years, even Saladin wants to have his hands – not only the jewel but the whole artifact.”

“What are you talking about? Saladin?”

“You have a lot to learn,” Phillip noted.

“Does the King of Jerusalem know about what … you are referring to?”

“I doubt it, but his father does. Unfortunately, his old man died when he was still a minor so we don’t know what information he could have transmitted his son.”

“Based on the way you speak; it sounds like neither you don’t know too much about the power of this … artifact.”

“Taunt me as much as you want but I could kill you right here and right now if I wanted to. You’re lucky to even get closure before I finish you off.”

“That is cute; you think you can kill me so easily.”

“Watch it, Aspasia,” he warned her, “you have no one here to protect you and from what I heard, you have angered your little friend back in Macedonia, they might come after you here if words get to them that you are in Jerusalem.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Akakios, of course.”

“Akakios is dead. I have beaten him to a pulp, then I tied him to a horse, and I scared the horse. He was carried across the mountains and valleys, hitting every tree in his way. That is, perhaps, my most creative work so far. Let us see if I can do better with you.”

She got her hidden blades out, ready to attack.

Phillip showed him his, which made Aspasia’s heart beat fast. She was noticing all sorts of details: first that he was in rather good shape, as he should have been, for two nights ago she had not hurt him badly. The second thing she noticed was that he did not show signs of injury on the places of his body where she had attacked the intruder when she was with the King, in his apartments. That must have been someone else. Who was working with Phillip?

“Akakios is alive, dear Aspasia. You ruined his face, his body and his health, but he is very much alive, I can tell you that.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I am not a liar – you are. You ought to believe me because I am the only one who would know such information.”

“And you are the only one who would say such a thing to scare me, but it is not working Phillip.”

“Aspasia, remember how you have not seen my body when I supposedly die. Now, the story with Akakios is the same thing, the same situation.”

She had no reason to trust Phillip. He only wanted to hurt her. “I will have to deal with you first, then figure out things on my own.”

“What?” he asked, and getting in position to fight, “you will pay the Sultan a visit? Confront your lover about this?”

She clenched her teeth and fists even harder. Her knuckles were turning white. He was trying to hit a nerve. “Are you planning to hurt him as well?”

“Hurt him? He is already in pain. I would not dare bring more pain to the sick… But it is not only physical but emotional as well. If he does not comply with me, lead me to his father’s memoirs or give me a satisfactory answer, I can manage to hurt him in more ways than one.”

Aspasia was mentally prepared to die today if it meant she could take Phillip down. He had spoken too much, his voice annoyed her. He was just like Akakios, only more intense and dangerous. The type to stab you in the back and also use you as a shield. For a moment, she missed those times when her enemies were just bullies like Akakios.

“If Akakios is truly alive, then I shall pay him a visit, and ask him about the jewel,” she promised. "I will kill you for the hell you put me through. Oh, you have no idea what you put me through, you just got to hide and be free."

She was the first to attack Phillip. She ran to him and aimed for the throat. He quickly caught her arm and rolled her to the ground. Landing on her back, the tiles of the rooftops digging in her clothes. Before he could twist her arm in an unnatural angle, she rolled to the side. Using her foot, she tangled herself around his leg and prompted him to fall. Then, she threw a punch, her aim perfect this time. His head hit the tiles, and he groaned in pain. Making sure he could not get up after that, she exposed her hidden blade and stabbed him in the foot. There was another groan.

Aspasia stood up quickly and took two steps back. She panted and laughed, happy with the work she had done. She instantly stopped, realizing that whenever she got very happy, thinking she was victorious, the tables were turned, and she was overpowered by her enemy. It had happened so many times that Aspasia had learned from her mistakes.

“In the foot,” commented Phillip, “nice move.”

He was about to grab her by the shoulder and the neck when she elbowed him in the arm and pushed his hand away, then threw her whole body on him. Both rolled on the rooftop and almost fell over, but Aspasia caught onto the border. Phillip held onto her cloak, this almost strangled her, and Aspasia let go. Both bodies fell in a different alley, her on top of Phillip. Air left his lungs as he landed on the ground and another heavy body adding more pressure onto him. He pushed Aspasia on the side. She instantly got up, put on her hood back, and looked over her shoulder at him and smirked.

“You are at a disadvantage here,” she commented, then proceeded to run. She ran, aware that he would attempt to catch her. Good thing he was slow. Aspasia pushed past people, those in her way who were careless met the ground. And like that, Aspasia led him toward the Holy Sepulchre. She took a sharp turn on an empty alley, pushing the items on her way to the ground so that they would for an obstacle for Phillip.

She was suddenly pushed onto the ground, Phillip jumped at her, and held onto her feet. As he was about to do the same thing at her and put his blade in her tibia, she kicked him in the hand, moved to the side and kicked him a second time in the knee this time. Phillip fell and Aspasia climbed on him, attempting to mobilize him. When she saw she could not choke him for he would stab her with his hidden blades, she grabbed him instead by the collar of his clothes and lifted his upper body up, then smashing him onto the ground.

He swore at her and spat at her. This angered her more, so she used the gauntlet without the hidden blade to hit his skull. The metal against his forehead, and his head against the ground, there was a loud sound that could only mean something bad. Aspasia dropped him and moved off of his body. She whipped off the spat on her chin and kicked his body one more time in the rib to make sure he was definitely unconscious. Phillip did not move, there was a bit of blood around his head. She got on her knees and checked his injury: it looked rather superficial, but he was hurt both in the back of the head and the front. Unconscious he was, and very much alive. Aspasia had to bring it to Tiberias and get him taken care of. They would arrest him and interrogate him, but maybe he would do the same thing as his body-double and commit suicide in order to not speak. Aspasia checked his mouth for any poison pill but found none.

Easter mass was going to end soon. She had to take him to the Holy Sepulchre, and in her mind, she knew there was something wrong with fighting and almost killing someone during such a holy day. Cursing at herself for not having knocked him out at least closer to the church, she lifted him up and put him on her back and carried him that way. She avoided all the busy streets, but it was a difficult thing to do. She arrived at the Holy Sepulchre, sweaty and covered in Phillip’s blood. Luckily, she was not injured but she had gotten bruises that would turn blue in the near future. As she arrived there, the bells rang, and the doors opened. People exited the building in small groups, smiles on their faces. Aspasia hid with Phillip’s body in a shadow and waited for Tiberias and the royal family to exit. Phillip was becoming heavy to carry and she had to adjust him on her back. Finally, when Tiberias stepped out, she called his name, but it was in a faint voice. He did not hear her the first time, so she called him again. The second time he heard her. He squinted his eyes as if it would help him see her better.

“Aspasia?” he asked.

“Tiberias!! I did it!! I caught him!!”

As she cried in happiness, she almost dropped Phillip, but she caught him and placed him gently on the ground, his head resting on her lap. Tiberias ran to her. That moment, Sibylla exited the church with her son, Baldwin, but when she spotted Aspasia with a bleeding body on her lap, she called for the young woman but held her son firmly next to her.

Aspasia smiled at the princess. “I caught him! No more!”

Sibylla nodded her head, but she led Baldwin further away. Aspasia took no offence in that; the prince was too young to see or hear Aspasia’s story. Immediately after Sibylla and her son cleared the doorway came the King. He froze on the spot, looked at Aspasia, then at the body. His shoulders dropped heavily and then watched his sister leave with his nephew for the palace.

“Aspasia, what the hell have you been going through…” lamented Tiberias, “look at you, look at him. Who is that?”

“Phillip. The man who hired me to assassinate you.”

Tiberias swallowed with difficulty.

“We have to arrest him.”

“We have to keep him alive.”

“In prison.”

“In the hospital.”

Tiberias groaned. “Aspasia, he is dangerous.”

“Yes, but he knows some things that I don’t know. It is important. Tiberias, trust me.”

The King approached them and stood three feet away from both of them. “Aspasia,” he said, almost sighing, “are you alright?”

“Yes, I am! I am fine!” she smiled between her tears. She would have had said something else to the King, anything else. Something along the lines of ‘I have missed you’ or ‘I am glad to be back’ but that moment was not the right one. She could not be sure if the King was smiling behind his mask or if he was worried, she could only see his blue eyes through the holes in the mask.

“We must take him to the palace.”

“To the infirmary,” begged one more time Aspasia, “please Tiberias. He will not attack you; I will make sure of it.”

Tiberias sighed. He called some guards that were patrolling nearby and instructed them to arrest him. Aspasia watched Tiberias lead the guards to the palace. Worried for Phillip, Aspasia shouted in one last attempt: “DON’T ARREST HIM PLEASE! HE CANNOT DIE JUST YET. WE NEED HIM.”


	35. Infirmary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Baldwin and Aspasia don't agree with the way they should deal with Phillip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More or less happy with how this chapter turned out, but I posted it because I am impatient to continue writing!

Aspasia had remained by Phillip’s side throughout the whole time he was at the infirmary. The man had been stripped of his weapons, he was given new clothes and his hands and legs had been tied to the bed. If Aspasia was allowed to remain there, it was because she was the only one who could stop him from hurting anyone when he had woken up.

She had not seen the prince nor Sibylla since earlier in the day. She knew they were safe and impatient to see her, especially the prince. Perhaps they were worried that she had gotten hurt, but someone must have told them Aspasia was still strong and healthy. As for Tiberias, he had been busy with the King, debating whether Phillip deserved the death penalty or if he must be kept alive. From what Aspasia could see, the King and Tiberias were not willing to take the risk. Knowing that they could order a guard to pick up Phillip from the hospital bed and take him to prison or to be executed, Aspasia had decided to camp in the infirmary, sleeping in a chair near Phillip’s bed, which only angered the King more than anything.

“Your little protest will not last very long,” Tiberias had told her, sighing as he realized Aspasia was more stubborn than he was, “the King will come to a decision and I am afraid you will not be able to do anything.”

Aspasia’s grip on Phillip’s wrist tightened as Tiberias said that. The Count could not understand why she insisted on keeping Phillip alive. Everyone knew how dangerous he could be. Luckily, he had remained unconscious for a few hours now and was too injured to even be an important threat.

Footsteps traversed the hallway and arrived at the infirmary. Tiberias turned around to face a silhouette dressed in white robes and a familiar silver mask. Aspasia looked up and saw the King looking at her, then at the unconscious Phillip, and then Tiberias.

“We can keep him alive to extract some information, but after that, he must be hanged immediately,” he finally said, breaking the long silence.

Aspasia’s eyes opened wide like saucers. “What? No! NO!”

“Aspasia!” hissed Tiberias, “I don’t like your tone of voice. This is not how you speak to the King.”

“King Baldwin,” she pushed pass Tiberias and walked to the Monarch, “please, listen to me! I have to speak to him! He cannot be killed yet!”

She realized she was almost grabbing onto his arms and instantly let go as if she had crossed a boundary. The King looked at her hands holding onto him and dropping him like she had held onto something burning. He looked back at her and almost took a step back. Rarely people have openly disagreed with his judgements, and if they did, they had always done it in a polite way. This time, Aspasia was adding more pressure by getting in his personal space and pleading.

“The punishment that awaits him is suitable for his crimes,” King Baldwin said, “you cannot keep such a criminal alive for too long.”

“But if you use that same logic, I should have been hanged as well, no?”

“Aspasia. It is as if you are asking to be hanged with him. If I spared your life, it was because I saw it fit.”

“You saw that in me but not in him??”

The King raised his hand up to stop Aspasia from getting to close. It was becoming a matter of safety at this point. Aspasia looked at his gloved hand as he kept her a few feet away from him and sighed. She realized that she was not going to prove her point by getting in his face. Perhaps he also feared physical proximity.

“Alright, sorry, sorry! But you let me be free when you did not even meet me. What is so different about Phillip?”

“If you would have said no to Sibylla’s offer, you would have been punished. Aspasia, please – “

“-Let me give him a deal, then!”

“That won’t work.”

“How do you know that?”

Here she was doing that again – almost tugging at his arm and getting too close at him. Tiberias approached her and put his hands on her forearms. As she felt his touch, she remembered she was not supposed to do such a thing for the King would feel uncomfortable. She realized her negotiating skills were lacking. She thought crying, begging and insisting would get her what she wants, but that seemed to rarely work, even as a child, no one found that adorable or efficient.

“Because. I just know.” This time the King almost shouted, “and if you keep doing this, I will begin to take it personally.”

Aspasia froze in shock. The King barely had enough time free himself that her grip tightened, preventing him to go, and said continued: “But why must you take it personally, then? It is not a personal problem any longer, it is linked to –“

“-ASPASIA. ENOUGH.” The King shouted. “IF I WANTED YOUR OPINION ON THE MATTER, I WOULD HAVE ASKED YOU.”

Tiberias pulled Aspasia a few feet away, sensing that she was getting agitated. As if she was fighting to see who had the biggest balls in the room, she pushed Tiberias aside and shouted back at the King: “YOU NEVER WOULD HAVE DONE THAT, DON’T SAY OTHERWISE! WHY MUST YOU NOT TAKE MY OPINIONS INTO ACCOUNT??”

“THIS IS NOT A DEMOCRACY, ASPASIA.”

The Count interposed himself between the two, and with his hands, he attempted to push them in the opposite direction. When Aspasia did what she could to get past him to take a step closer to the King, King Baldwin only turned his back and held his head with his hands.

“Aspasia, stop,” whispered Tiberias at her. She could see that he was warning her with his eyes that if she said something else, things would escalate. She took a deep breath in, and she thought she sensed movement in Phillip’s bed, so she quickly forgot about the fight and ran to Phillip. In reality, it was only his hand that, tied to the metal frame of the bed, had slipped on the pillow. Aspasia arranged the covers and the pillows so that Phillip would be comfortable. The King turned around and saw all her attention focused on her attacker. She did not have to see his face or even to turn her head to know that he was fuming. There was a long pause, a moment of intense silence when even the King’s breath fanning against the inside of his silver mask could not be heard. “You know, even if you decide to hang him, I will do everything I have to do to keep him alive.”

That sentence had pushed the King even further from her. He threw his hands in the air in anger and shouted: “FINE. YOU WIN THIS TIME!”

Aspasia turned her head and faced the King. She got up from her knees and ran to him with arms wide open, the biggest smile on her face, but he raised his hand to stop her. Instead of looking disappointed, Aspasia looked at his hand as he pointed his finger menacingly at her, and took it in hers, and jumped on her spot in happiness.

“If he hurts someone, you will be held accountable,” the King warned her. He instantly retracted his hand, and took a few steps back, then walked away. Aspasia watched him walk away, not sure if she should follow him, but Tiberias put a hand on her shoulder, sighing loudly.

“You received what you wanted,” he said, “but now he is angry at you.”

“I am so happy!” she squealed, “I don’t care.” She quickly ran back to be by Phillip’s side and said: “Emotions change. I think he will want some time alone. He will understand.”

Tiberias raised his eyebrows at her. “I certainly hope you are right.” And with that, Tiberias left her and followed the direction the King has taken. She hoped Tiberias could speak to him and calm him down. Now that the silence has settled again, she could focus on her breathing. Her fingers were shaking, something she did not realize was happening. Quite frankly, she did care what the King thought of her. It pained her to know that he was feeling resentment, but Aspasia prayed that she could change that in the future, but she did not know when.

A day has gone by and Aspasia had not moved from that chair near Phillip’s bed. She was spending bad nights of sleep. Tiberias had paid her a few visits to see if Phillip has shown signs of recovery and consciousness, but the attacker still laid in his bed, bandages all over his body and unconscious.

“Perhaps you should go talk to the King,” Tiberias suggested.

Aspasia shook her head quickly.

“Why not?”

“He’s angry at me.”

“Anyone would be angry at you if you had yelled at them.”

Aspasia shrugged her shoulders. In reality, she had had some time to think as well, and she regretted having spoken like that to the King, but at least it had gotten her what she wanted. She wondered how many second chances he was willing to give her.

“Perhaps if you were to go talk to him and apologize, he might change his mind.”

Aspasia shook her head. “I doubt it will be sufficient. He was really angry with me.”

“Try maybe explaining to him your perspective. If he understands you, he will more likely want to talk to you.”

Perhaps that was the best Tiberias could do at prompting her to resolve this issue. Aspasia was also too stubborn and too embarrassed to go to the King’s apartments and face him after what had happened. The second day went by and sleeping in that chair was becoming very hard. Phillip’s state had not changed much. When Tiberias came to see her a third time, she asked him if the King was still angry at her. A day has passed, he should be more open to talking, she assumed.

“So?” she insisted.

Tiberias scratched the back of his neck. “The more you wait, the worse your situation will get. If Phillip wakes up and the King is still angry at you, you are putting yourself at greater risk to suffer the consequences.”

“So, what you are saying is that I should go…” She sighed to herself. She whipped her sweaty palms on her dress and looked down. “No amount of pep talk could give me enough courage to apologize.”

“You’ve apologized in the past and you survived. Just go. I will make sure to stay here in your place, in case Phillip wakes up, which I doubt will happen.”

He almost pushed Aspasia out of the infirmary and kept watching her until she had reached the other side of the garden. She took her sweet time to walk, preparing herself mentally at the King’s hostility. He had warned her to not make enemies and she was slowly turning her friends against her.

After crossing the numerous hallways and climbing the stairs that led to his apartments, Aspasia stopped midtrack, realizing that she was not sure what she had to tell the King because she was convinced, she was doing the right thing. Tiberias was right: she had done things far more difficult and dangerous in her life, this must have been nothing compared to them.

When she arrived at his apartments and knocked at the door, she expected a servant to open her, but instead, the King had shouted a ‘come in.’ She opened the doors and peeked inside.

She searched the room for him and found him laying on a canopy, perhaps half-asleep. He pushed himself up and turned his head to see who had just walked in. When he realized it was Aspasia, his shoulders dropped, and he turned his head away. “What can I do for you?” he asked politely but with a hint of anger.

Aspasia giggled. All her nerves were forgotten the moment she saw him. The King never showed her this side of him and Aspasia told herself she was going to enjoy it while it lasted. As a matter of fact, she was far too happy to see him, it felt as if she had not seen him in ages, so whether he was angry or not didn't matter. The King did not seem to appreciate her good mood, however.

“Were you trying to sleep or are you just sulking?”

“Did you come here with a reason?”

“Oh… You’re answering my question with a question of your own – you must be seriously angry at me.” She walked around the canopy and seeing that there was a spot for her to sit, she sat down. The King moved over to the side as if to give her space, but it felt as if he wanted to put more distance between them. “I am really sorry for having talked back and screamed at you, but I am not sorry for having asked you to spare Phillip’s life.” The King did not say anything. There was a moment of silence where Aspasia waited, to see if there was going to be a reaction, but since there was none, she proceeded: “Tiberias told me that, if I explained to you my reasons for wanting to keep him alive, perhaps you would no longer be angry at me.”

“Please, do so,” he said, his voice very monotone.

Aspasia cracked her knuckles and looked down at her laps. Was he genuinely curious? She bit her lower lip, searching for the right choice of words. “I suppose he is connected to my past somehow. He knows things that are important. I have some … unresolved issues back home.”

“But you left your home and came here.”

“Yes, I thought I put everything in the past, but I fear that some people there still resent me. They are willing to go incredible lengths just to get back at home. I don’t know who Phillip works for, but if we can extract that information from him – “

“–Phillip is a professional killer,” interrupted her the King, “and the chances that he will spill anything are very low. He has fooled you once in the past, he is capable of doing that again.”

Aspasia nodded her head.

“You think you can handle him when he wakes up?”

“I know nothing for sure, but I can hope he is willing to speak. Just like you said when he spoke to me, awhile ago, there is potential in him and killing him would be a waste of a good life.”

“I am not sure you understand that there is a possibility that Phillip will refuse to change. What then?”

Aspasia acknowledged that.

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

The King sighed. “That is quite an irresponsible thing,” he said. He turned his head away, looking around the room. He knew Aspasia had made her decision. It was a matter personal to her, and Aspasia was clear that she was going to disobey him if he told her that Phillip could not be kept. “You understand that if things don’t go according to plan, you will be the one to bear the punishment.”

“I know you will do everything you can to keep me safe,” she said cheekily.

The King groaned. He knew that deep down she was right. As if Aspasia had been able to read his mind, she predicted what was going to happen. He would make sure the situation will not lead to this, however.

“Phillip will be moved to the prison after he wakes up,” he informed her. “That, you cannot convince me otherwise. If you do not manage to get information out of him, I will decide what we do of him.”

Aspasia nodded her head. The King sighed and relaxed his shoulders. The young woman was sitting down comfortably on the canopy. No longer hostile toward her, he relaxed as well, her company always made him happy, despite the fact that their time spent together never lasted very long, and most of the time, they were working at his desk.

“I still don’t understand why you insisted on staying by his side this whole time.”

Aspasia giggled. “You know very well why. In case he wakes up and attempts to attack a nurse or anyone for the matter.”

“His restraints and a guard are enough.”

“If this is not sufficient to convince you, then think of him as my prisoner.”

“Right, right…”

She gave him a light tap on his elbow. He looked down at her hand and puffed. Could he still feel things with his illness? Perhaps not, Aspasia supposed. He was relying on his other senses around him. From what Aspasia could see, he had difficulty using one of his hands, but he could walk and run, although it must have exhausted him. His eyes, a nice blue she rarely saw in people, except in his own nephew, could probably see, but to what extent? Were they as sharp as hers?

There was a moment of comfortable silence between the two. Aspasia asked herself if she should worry about sitting too close to him. She was not familiar with how leprosy could be transmitted, many spoke about touch, but his physicians and servants had never contracted the illness. She told herself that she was safe, and she was going to continue taking precautions despite that.

“Where did you go a few nights before? Ibelin?”

“Yes, my lord,” she answered, “you were to one to give me this idea.”

King Baldwin nodded his head.

“I thought you were going to stay there for much longer.”

“There is nothing for me there.”

Another moment of silence. Usually, he would have taken this opportunity to strike a conversation. He was good at doing that, although he preferred to listen as to speak. Perhaps everything between them had been said? Was it her cue to go, to let him go to sleep, maybe?

“I was worried about you, while you were gone,” he admitted.

“Oh…”

“I am glad to hear you have listened because I know Balian would have kept you safe there.”

Aspasia giggled like a little girl. The King’s eyes focused on her, then he looked away. “I am flattered. Do not forget I am capable of defending myself, if necessary.”

“Yes, of course. Still, as a man, knowing that you are in danger, it worries me, and I want to protect you. Perhaps I was raised to be like this…”

Aspasia was not sure how to reply. Should she compliment his own skills? For someone affected by a disease, he was very strong and skilled. It was enough to save her when she was first attacked by someone who came for the red jewel. Perhaps what she ought to do was just to thank him for his concerns.

When she was about to say something, so did the King. They were, however, both interrupted by a knocking at the door. A servant walked in and bowed his head, then said something to the King in Arabic. The King moved in his seat and then turned to face Aspasia: “he just said that Phillip had moved in his bed, and he could wake up very soon. Perhaps you should go.”

“Oh,” Aspasia was surprised the message was addressed to her. She stood up and passed her hands over the creases that had formed over her dress. “Will you stay here, or will you come downstairs?”

“I will join you,” King Baldwin said.

“Are you not afraid he might be dangerous?”

The King got up and looked at Aspasia, a sharp look in his eyes. “Did you not say you were going to be the one to stop Phillip if he chose to attack anyone?”

Aspasia laughed a bit. “I did, right you are.”

“Then I suspect you will take this role seriously.”


	36. Siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia has to save Phillip from a trial at all costs.

Aspasia had rushed to get back to the infirmary, the King following her. When she had arrived there, Tiberias stood at the end of the bed, a nurse next to him. They turned around and saw that Aspasia had come, and the King was with her. It was a positive sign, one that they had reconciled. She moved around them by the side and saw that Phillip seemed to be sleeping, but his sleep was very light and superficial. “He woke up?”

“For a brief second,” Tiberias said, “but he fell back asleep.”

She wanted to make sure he was not pretending to sleep. She listened to his heartbeat and checked his breathing. Perfectly normal for someone who was sleeping. She tried pressing on his chest to provoke a reaction, but Phillip did not move. The King sat down on the chair next to the bed and asked: “so he is truly unconscious, there is no doubt about it.”

Aspasia laughed. “We can wake him up, can we? We should.” She bit her lower lip, hoping that her whole plan would work. If it did not, the King would have to take him to prison and decide on the most adequate punishment. The fear that Phillip may be hanged without him giving them information cause anxiety in Aspasia.

“He must have hit his head badly,” Tiberias commented. “How reckless of him… Do you think he did that on purpose?”

“Letting me win?”

Tiberias nodded.

Aspasia scoffed at him. “Oh please… This is an insult to my abilities.”

Tiberias did not laugh at her joke. “Aspasia. This is serious.”

“Alright, alright. The truth is that I don’t know. I thought I was clever when I aimed for his foot. I was also quicker than him, which gave me an advantage.”

Tiberias sighed and massaged his forehead. “Why did we even allow this …” He sent a look at the King who did not comment. Aspasia gave the King a small smile, happy that they have come to an understanding. There was a moment where everyone remained silent. The nurse picked up a roll of gauze and some scissors and headed to the room where they stored medical supplies. There was a small movement, Phillip’s fingers twitched and then he stopped. Aspasia hovered over him and began calling his name. The patient did not respond. “You are not helping him,” Tiberias said. Aspasia did not listen. She blew a bit of air onto his face, but no reaction either. She then tried to put her index finger on his eyelid, and finally, Phillip moved a bit.

“Phillip. Wake up.”

“You are doing this in vain…”

“We,” Aspasia referred to herself and King Baldwin, “have not rushed to get here for nothing. I will wake him up, do not worry, Tiberias.”

She touched his face, tugged at his arm, shook a bit his shoulder. When Phillip finally opened his eyes, he hissed in agony. Aspasia gasped, surprised she had succeeded and eager to rub it in Tiberias’ face later. “Phillip! Phillip!! Focus on me! I’m right here!” The patient dangled his head left to right, seemingly unaware of where he was and who were those around him. He had trouble keeping his eyes focused on one thing. At some point, they almost rolled back, but when Aspasia gave him a soft slap on his cheek. The maid was brought back on Tiberias’ orders and carried with her some opiates. They were going to sedate him and numb the pain. If Aspasia wanted to interrogate him herself, her best chance was to do it at the beginning, before the drug made its effect on his brain.

“Do you think he is capable of staying awake long enough for you to ask him questions?” Tiberias asked while they waited for the nurse to administer him the drug.

“You always think I have a plan, Tiberias,” Aspasia pointed out, “and you know me, and you know I am disorganized, and I rarely plan in advance.”

Throughout their interaction, the King had not said a word. Aspasia tried to smile at him, but it was impossible to tell what was going on behind that mask. When the nurse came back to fetch them, Aspasia bolted to find Phillip. She adjusted his pillow so that he could sit up, but the man remained in the same position. He seemed unaware that his hands were tied to the bars, and so he did not attempt to free himself.

“Phillip?” she asked. He had already closed back his eyes, and his mouth was wide open to help him breathe. “Wake up. Not now. Wake up, _bdelyròs_ ,” Finally, Phillip opened his eyes a bit. He had a hard time focusing on Aspasia, she took his head in both her hands to stabilize it. “Idiot, I don’t have time for this bullsh- “

“-Aspasia! Language!” Tiberias scolded her.

Phillip tried to say something. Aspasia searched on the table by the side of his bed for a bit of water. She lifted his head and brought the cup to his lips. Phillip drank a bit but not enough. He was about to close his eyes yet another time when Aspasia gave him a tap on the top of his head and his eyes shot wide open. She almost forcefully made him drink until the cup was almost entirely empty and let his head rest back on the pillow. “Who are you?” Phillip asked.

“Repeat that,” she dared him and splashed him with the little bit of water that was left in the cup. He grimaced a bit, but his reactions were slow. He brought his hand to his face and attempted to lift his hand to his face to wipe away the water, but his arm fell heavily by the side of his head. “This is not funny, Phillip. The drug is not powerful enough to make you forget.”

“I am not lying. Who are you? Who am I?”

Aspasia felt as if her heart almost stopped beating in her chest. Phillip could no longer manage to keep his eyes open and fell back asleep. She looked at Tiberias and the King, as if they could confirm to her what had happened had truly happened. When there was no reaction but a shocked face, Aspasia nodded her head and proceeded to untie Phillip.

“What?? What are you doing?” Tiberias panicked.

Aspasia stopped him and said: “if he has amnesia, he is no longer a threat.”

“How do you know he is not faking it?”

“Could someone create a whole plan in their sleep about faking the loss of their memories?” She gave Tiberias a look, severe and inquiring. Tiberias sighed, agreeing to it.

“I don’t think it is a good thing to let him free.”

“He will wake up and wonder why he is tied. This will put us in a very awkward position,” Aspasia reminded him. “let us untie him, he will be harmless, and we can assign guards here. What? What is this look on your face, Tiberias? Are you not convinced yet? ... Oh please, look at him! He is not in a good state, he cannot even walk; his foot is injured.”

“Aspasia,” the King then said, “I do not like the idea that this man is free and able to just walk away.”

She put both her hands on his shoulders as if to reassure him. “In that case, I will sleep here tonight, and make sure nothing happens. You said he is my responsibility, and I will take care of him.”

The King sighed and looked away. Aspasia dropped her hands and then looked at Phillip. He was completely passed out, the drug ill probably prolong his sleep. She adjusted the covers on him, then looked at the chair, the place where she had slept the previous nights.

“At least take one of the hospital beds, the nurses will perhaps allow you to use them,” Tiberias suggested.

←→

The next morning, Aspasia was woken up by a soft touch that she was familiar with. When she opened her eyes, the bright sunlight indicated her she had woken up late. She found, sitting on her bed, Sibylla, but she was by herself. “Aspasia…” she coaxed her, “wake up, already.” Aspasia sat up with difficulty and rubbed her eyes. The Princess handed her a cup of water to drink from.

“What are you doing here?”

Sibylla smiled at her. “My son was very worried about you, when we saw you outside the Holy Sepulchre, on Easter. I had told him that you were alright, but he insisted on making sure you are alright. He was hard to argue with.”

“Baldwin? I hope he’s not here, that’s not safe for h-“

“-No. I have left him in his room,” Sibylla whispered, then sent Phillip a look sideways. “This… is the man who was looking for Tiberias?” Aspasia nodded. To that, Sibylla sighed, nervous and exasperated. It was hard to imagine that the man who was sleeping peacefully was the one who attempted to kill them on several occasions. “What do we know about him?” Sibylla asked. “Can you guess where he is from? If he works for someone?”

“I have a few guesses…” Aspasia admitted, but did not divulge too much.

“Is it true that he has lost his memories?” The young woman gulped and nodded her head. Sibylla looked at him, and his head injury. “You know, my brother said that if we cannot get him to tell us anything, we will have to execute him.”

“What?”

“You heard him,” Sibylla said.

“But he’s harmless, look at him.”

“Is he? How can you be so sure?”

Aspasia bit her lower lip. “We cannot get rid of him so quickly.” She rubbed her eyes, trying to find an idea to save Phillip. The King was clear. They had argued about how to deal with him and Aspasia had won that argument, but it seemed to her that in the end, the King had managed to prove his point.

“He is dangerous,” Sibylla said. It was clear that she sided with her brother on this one.

“He is harmless, I repeat,” Aspasia responded back, "just look at him!"

The princess looked over at Phillip, who was still asleep. He had bandages around his head, hands and leg, where he was hurt the most. Sibylla sighed. “He will wake up later, and we will see. Nothing tells us that he will become nice just because he has lost his memories. You have to think of something -of a plan - otherwise, you will lose this opportunity.” And Sibylla was, yet again, right about it. Aspasia would have to think of something. Begging King Baldwin to spare him was not going to work if she did not think this through. She got up, made her bed and followed Sibylla to the dining room. The prince had joined his mother to eat and when he saw Aspasia, he insisted on sitting next to her and asked her to tell him how she fought Phillip.

“No talking while chewing,” Sibylla told her son. She smiled at Aspasiam and then explained to her son that the young woman was tired, so maybe she will tell him those stories another time. When the food was served, Aspasia made sure to put something aside for Phillip too.

After they had finished eating, Aspasia waved goodbye at the Prince who would have wanted to spend more time with her, and headed back to the infirmary, the plate in her hand. She placed it on the table, next to Phillip’s bed, and watched him sleep for a bit. She was impatient for him to wake up. It was only a matter of time. At that moment, Tiberias stepped inside the room and stood next to her. “How is the King doing this morning?” she asked him. “Is he going to join us?”

“I think he will,” Tiberias said. The two of them sat down in silence and listened to the birds outside chirping. The nurses paraded in the infirmary, carrying various tools in their hands and underneath their arms. There were fewer patients today, and most of them had a small injury that did not prevent them from going to work. Phillip laid in his bed, almost looking dead, if it was not for his rhythmic breathing.

The King appeared, taking slow steps, hands behind his back. He greeted them and took a seat. “Has he awakened yet?”

Tiberias shook his head. “What will we do, when he wakes up again, and still amnesic?” The Count asked.

There was no answer from the King. They did not need an answer. He simply turned his head to face Aspasia, his eyes piercing hers as if he was trying to tell her ‘you know what will happen, we had a deal.’ Her shoulders dropped heavily. She tried not to show the panic in her eyes, she had to protect the patient at all cost, he could not be trialled too soon.

She turned her head to face Phillip. He moved a hand, slightly, and again, no movement. How long was he going to stay like this? Moments have passed, and Sibylla arrived. “Here I am,” she said, “Baldwin did not want to go meet his tutor today. He wanted to see what Aspasia was doing.”

Aspasia chuckled a bit.

Sibylla took a seat at the end of the bed and sighed. “Perhaps he will wake up later?”

“No, he has been unconscious for a few days and he slept another one. He is bound to wake up, at least to eat,” Tiberias stated. “Maybe we should wake him up ourselves?”

Having said that, he called a nurse to help him. The woman shook a bit Phillip and prepared to change the bandages around his head. The man opened his eyes slowly and painfully, and looked around him, more aware of his surroundings than the last time. The drugs must have stopped working by now.

“What? ... Wh… Where am I?” he asked, his voice raspy from the sleep and lack of use. Everyone stood around his bed, almost blocking Aspasia from his view. She tried to stand on the tip of her toes to be able to see him.

“You are in the infirmary of the palace,” Sibylla announced him, “you were injured very badly in a fight.”

_Please, no more details,_ Aspasia prayed.

“Who are you? Who am I?”

“Phillip, you don’t remember?” asked Tiberias.

“No. Is my name Phillip?”

Aspasia quickly turned her back and clenched her fist. She needed to do something; it was urgent. And suddenly, like a thunderbolt, something crossed her mind.

A knot formed in the back of her throat. She felt her whole body shaking and her feet were very light. Aspasia quickly took a step back and turned her back. She hid behind a column, no one had paid attention to her, and she massaged her forehead. She began sweating anxiously and her mouth was dry. It was not her brightest one yet, it could possibly ruin Phillip’s life, but it was worth trying, but she was desperate to keep him alive. Anything to keep him alive, otherwise, guards would have fetched him and taken him to prison on behalf of King Baldwin. If she failed to do that, she would have no choice but to dispose of him like she had been told to do.

She took a deep breath, clenched her fists, and exhaled sharply. “Aspasia… Damn you…” she told herself. Turning on her heels and running toward the bed, she pushed past the others and began breathing quickly. Then, this led her to sob “PHILLIP!! PHILLIP, OH LORD, you’re awake!!”

All eyes were on her. Tears came out on their own, cascading down her cheeks. She jumped on him, hugging him as if he had been a loved one she had not seen in many years. She proceeded to rub his back, comb his hair, and place his head underneath her chin, pulling him close to her.

“Aspasia?? What are you-“

She completely ignored those around her. Phillip seemed lost and confused, but he did not push her away. “My big brother, I was so worried about you!”

“Your brother?” Phillip asked.

“Yes, you don’t remember me?”

“No, I –“

“Oh Lord, they told me something was wrong, but I did not know you would forget me! Goodness, Phillip! It’s me, Aspasia! I am your little sister!”

Phillip appeared to be going through a dilemma. It was his own sister and he accepted her embrace, yet he did not have any memories of her.

She pulled away, placed both her hands on his cheeks, and looked at him in the eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t seem convinced,” she said, almost in a cry.

“No, that’s not it…” Phillip tried to say as if he did not wish to offend his own sister.

She put on the saddest look on her face and smiled amidst that. “It is okay, I understand, Phillip, I do. Please, rest for now, and take it easy…”

She allowed him to lay back and turned around to face the others. The King, who looked the angriest of the three of them, pulled her aside, away from the infirmary. She followed him to the garden, her head hanging low. When they were away from earshot, the King grabbed her firmly by the arm and hushed at her: “what do you think you are doing?”

She tried to laugh despite the fact that King Baldwin was angry at her. “Wow, you have a strong grip for someone with –“

“- Aspasia. No jokes. What do you think you are doing?”

She closed her eyes and exhaled. She would have wanted to escape him and not have to deal with this problem. Aspasia dropped her shoulders and looked down.

“Look at me! Aspasia! Look at me!!” he insisted, “What do you think you are doing?”

“You were worried that he was going to be dangerous, no?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, if I am his 'sister'… I can exert more control over him and keep him in check.”

“Aspasia!” he tried not to scream at her. She felt herself becoming smaller and smaller under his gaze. She expected that reaction in him quite frankly, but she was not prepared to deal with it. Last night they had fought, and right now was too soon.

In an attempt to defend herself, she said: “he will not harm anyone and I will get what I want. When that is over, you can do whatever you want to him…”

“No, Aspasia. You cannot do this and get away with it!!”

She tried to calm him down, but it did not work. In the last attempt, she wanted to pull him into an embrace, but he quickly shoved her away. Aspasia starred at him; eyes wide open. It hurt her more than she expected it to.

“Stop trying to manipulate me, Aspasia!”

“What? I am not manipulating you!”

“Embraces are not going to change the fact that you are lying to him, manipulating me, and expecting me to accept this game you are playing. You do not seem to understand how wrong that is!! To lie to someone about their identity, and to hide their crimes for your own objectives!”

“There is no game! Baldwin, can’t you –“

She was about to take another step closer when he stopped her. “ _Baldwin_?” he asked. 

Did she offend him? Forgetting to use his royal title? The word just slipped out of her mouth. She winced. “I am sorry, this was a mistake. But, please, believe me! I am not playing any game! I cannot have him hanged so soon; he knows too much! Can’t you understand? We already argued about this last night. Must we argue again? Please, after last night, it is too soon. I do not want to fight with you, especially over this.”

“Every second he is alive; he represents a danger to those around him. He had almost finished you a few nights ago, he tricked you and made you do his dirty work and allowed you to get caught. Do you think he deserves to be spared? And you honestly think you are strong enough to stop him? Please, Aspasia, have some sense! You beat him once, do not let that get to your head!"

From afar, Tiberias and Sibylla were watching this. Tiberias arrived to interrupt their argument and Sibylla pulled Aspasia aside. When she had her back turned, Aspasia began crying silently. Sibylla patted her back in an attempt to make her stop.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Tiberias led the King back to his apartments, whispering something to him. She turned around to face Sibylla, whipped away her tears, shook her head and then said: “does he really think I do this out of pleasure? That I want to torture Phillip and everyone else? I had no choice in doing that. I need him alive; he knows things about the red jewel.”

Sibylla was the only one who knew about the jewel, Aspasia hoped the princess would understand. Sibylla sighed and attempted to reassure her that her brother needed a bit of time alone. “These past few days have been stressful for him, please do not give up,” she encouraged Aspasia. She did not voice out her disapproval with Aspasia’s lie, there was no need to do that, the young woman knew already that all disagreed with her.


	37. Words For the Night

Evening came, Aspasia had not moved from the chair next to Phillip’s bed. She had taken off her slippers and brought her knees close to her chest and watched him sleep, wondering to herself if she had done the right thing to tell him she was his family. Did Phillip have any family alive? Would he tell her anything if he regained his memories back and realized she had lied to her? What if he never gained his memories back? Will she be stuck with a brother and be doomed to have an _Abel and Cain_ relationship with him until one of them dies? She contemplated for another few days, and much to her surprise, no one had come to Phillip to tell him the truth. Was that a sign that they trusted her judgement? It was unclear to her. Maybe the King had a hand in this?

Days have passed and Sibylla came to see her one day, announcing her that Aspasia was invited to a party she was going to host at the palace. Aspasia felt as if she could not refuse without it seeming like an open offense. She had already angered the King for various motives in the past days, if she showed herself nice to Sibylla, perhaps he would see that she was willing to work with them. Aspasia had left Phillip alone in his bed in the infirmary. He spent most of the time sleeping, waking up on a few occasions, always very lost. She would attempt to act in a sisterly manner, try to encourage him to ask her questions about his past. She kept on feeding him lies, creating a story between the two, where they had left Greece to make money in Jerusalem. Phillip had shown himself to be pleasant to talk to, and he appeared to want to reciprocate those feelings and aspirations with his sister but could not bring himself to be convinced in it. She reassured him that it would ‘take a bit of time’ and attempted to see if he could gain some memories. Alas, Phillip could not bring himself to even think about technicalities and was fixated on discovering his own identity.

The night of the party, Aspasia had left Phillip in his bed. He had fallen asleep early, the nurse told her she was going to take care of him if he woke up. Aspasia had left for her room to get ready. Upon inspecting her reflection for the first time in the copper mirror, she discovered the dark circles under her eyes and her ghostly look from the lack of sleep and the stress of the past days. The more she looked at herself, the less she wanted to attend the party. No amount of jewelry or fine clothes could attract someone’s eyes away from the damage done to her face by her lack of sleep. Despite that, she asked the maids for help to get ready. They did her hair and gave her a beautiful midnight blue dress with golden details to wear, similar to another one she had worn in the past. It seemed that dark blue was the color that suited her the best.

When she arrived at the party, she discovered a table filled with food placed at the very center, with servants walking between the crowds of guests that formed and serving wine imported from France. A few musicians were paid to play their instruments to the crowd and most of the men had dropped their uniforms and wore clothes made of the softest silk that could be found on the market. The women had put a lot of effort in their appearance, Aspasia looked down at her own attire and wondered if it was enough to please the crowd. She felt new to this world, despite having lived there for a few months now, and tried to tell herself that this party was not different to the one Sibylla hosted in her apartment with her friends.

A servant offered her a cup of wine, but the woman refused it. Sibylla noticed that interaction and took the cup of wine from the servant and placed it in Aspasia’s hand.” You should drink it while you can and tell me if you have ever drunk anything better than that one.”

Aspasia took a sip and bobbed her head. “I can see why this one is expensive,” she said, “but to me, all wines taste the same.”

Sibylla laughed. “Pay attention to the details.” Aspasia turned her head, searching through the crowd. Sibylla noticed that gesture and asked her: “looking for anyone in particular?”

Aspasia shrugged. Did the princess really need to ask that question? She knew the answer.

Sibylla sighed. “He is not here yet, but he will arrive soon to greet the guests,” she informed her, “if you wish to talk to him, you can try to, tonight.”

Aspasia shook her head slightly. “I would rather avoid talking to him tonight. There is no guarantee I will start crying. In front of everyone.” At the last part, Aspasia tried to give her a cheeky smile, to emphasize the joke, but Sibylla only sighed in sadness and gave Aspasia a small squeeze of the shoulder. Aspasia took a sip from her cup, thinking to herself that the wine was going to give her a bit of courage and keep her warm.

“I must go and speak to the other guests,” Sibylla told Aspasia, “please try to mingle around, and not say anything to… wild. Yes, that is the word. Don’t mention anything you are not supposed to.”

“I will be a lady,” Aspasia confirmed, bowing as a lady would. Sibylla pretended to look worried, and after seeing she had made Aspasia laugh, she left her on her own. Aspasia stood by herself in the middle of the crowd, the situation seemed suddenly more daunting than she expected. Sibylla appeared to have no trouble chatting with people and making them feel comfortable. Across the room, in black robes with golden details, stood Balian, who had just come in. As he saw her, he smiled and greeted her with a nod. Aspasia smiled back. The knight moved over to go speak to other nobles, and Aspasia was once again by herself. She looked down at her cup, in the red wine, she could see her reflection. The hairdo the maids gave her suited her well, it framed her face nicely and made her look more modest.

She emptied the cup, then passed her fingers over her mouth to make sure there was no drops of wine left there and made her way outside. The servants that worked that night were not the same who worked throughout the day. She paid a bit more attention to the people attending the party and noted that a few of them had brought their own servant to accompany them. Where was Sibylla’s maid, however? She tried to look for a middle eastern woman with nice robes that would always stand a few feet away from the princess, but Sibylla was very much on her own.

Aspasia left her empty cup on a table outside, where someone would pick it up, and strolled through the courtyard. The grass was slightly wet, due to the evening dew. She lifted slightly the hem of her dress to not touch the wet grass. As she walked further away from the party, the castle grew quieter. Occasionally, servants would stroll through, some would be carrying cleaning supplies and other mysterious boxes, Aspasia was not too sure what was inside. She crossed paths with some of Saladin’s personal physicians who have been sent to take care of the King, and they walked in the direction of the stables, their medical tools in their bags. Aspasia stepped aside to let them pass and watch them walk away. From afar, she could hear the voice of Tiberias calling them. The Count did not notice Aspasia as she stood in the shadow. He went to meet the physicians and spoke to them, then walked them in the direction of the stables. Were they leaving already? Was that a sign that the King was getting better? She watched them until they disappeared behind two gates and then continued walking.

The night grew colder, away from the fires and the people of the party, Aspasia decided to continue her short walk in the interior, where the wind could not reach her. On her path, she bumped into a figure of a man in simple robes, with a beautifully decorated cross around his neck. Her eyes widen as she recognized the Patriarch of Jerusalem, and she stumbled on her words.

“Your name is Aspasia?” the man asked her, a severe look on his face. She froze in her spot. Did he know anything about her? Has he heard bad things?

“Yes… Uh… Good evening, _Father_?” she hoped she was right in the use of his title.

The man laughed a bit. Aspasia dropped her shoulders, able to relax now.

“How come are you not at the party?” he asked her, smiling a bit. “I thought Sibylla was your closest friend.”

She bit the inside of her cheeks. “Sibylla is busy welcoming the guest and I am not the type of woman who enjoys big social gatherings like that.”

“Oh, I see…”

“I should ask you the same thing,” she noted, “you are one of the most important figures of Jerusalem, you should be there meeting people.”

“Same answer as you: I am not the type of man who enjoys big social gatherings like that.”

Aspasia smiled. “You are part of the Church,” she commented, “and you are doing mass every Sunday morning. How is that different?”

Patriarch Heraclius chuckled and look down at his feet. “I suppose you are making a valid point. I enjoy doing my work but beyond that, I would say I am a private person.”

“You know, we always come to Church for mass, you should also come to our parties, otherwise I call it unfair…”

He threw his head back and laughed. Aspasia laughed at his laugh. She was not going to admit to him she initially found him stoic and cold, but he was quite warm and seemed to love talking to people.

“You have a sense of humour, Aspasia,” he complimented her.

“Thank you. I am glad you appreciate it. Sometimes, I consider a career change and think I could make a good jester for the court.”

The Patriarch laughed again, a bit louder this time. He wiped away a few tears that formed in the corner of his eyes and placed a hand on his chest. “That is a good one! You amuse me.”

Aspasia bowed her head a bit to thank him.

“Do you have any advice for a woman like me?” she asked him. “Sometimes, I wonder if I do not hear the voice of God because I am too busy listening to others when I should not.”

“Possibly,” the Patriarch agreed. “Our judgement tends to be clouded by people who pretend to be close to us and tell us to not listen to our reason. The higher you get in the hierarchy of society, the more it is done to us and the more we do it to others. A good piece of advice which is told to knights is that we ought to do the right thing, even if it leads us to our fall.”

“That is … good advice, but very hard to apply these days.”

“God is testing us, to see how strong your will and sense of morality are. No one said that doing the right thing was easy, but if we all permitted ourselves to do what we know to be wrong; this world would be in complete chaos.”

Aspasia nodded her head, “that is true.” 

The Patriarch bowed his head a little bit and said: “it was nice talking to you Aspasia. May the Lord guide you.” He walked around her and headed in the opposite direction. She looked over her shoulder and watched him disappear as he turned around the corner. She wondered to herself where she was heading, that late at night. There was no one in particular to see, and perhaps Sibylla was already looking for her.

As she made her way through the hallways, a door opened slowly. A figure of a man with long, dark hair stepped out. Aspasia instantly got closer to the wall, hoping he would not notice her. Right behind him appeared a woman, wearing modest clothes and air let to cascade on her back. She was most certainly a servant, and upon closer inspection, Aspasia recognized Sibylla’s own personal maid.

Just as Guy de Lusignan was about to walk away without throwing his one-time fling a second glance, Aspasia called him: “My, my…”

The maid instantly froze but Guy stopped from his tracks slowly. He turned around and saw Aspasia standing there, arms crossed on her chest and a death glare in her eyes.

The knight chuckled and motioned the maid to step back. She did not wait for any other instructions and made herself as small as possible, avoiding Aspasia’s gaze at all costs.

“Funny how you are always here when this happens…”

“Yes, funny indeed. It appears you are not as secretive as you would like to make yourself think.”

He approached her, taking slow steps. He extended a hand toward her, but she grabbed his index finger and twisted his hand. The finger made a cracking sound. Guy did not yelp, but he retracted his hand instantly.

“I am sorry,” he apologized but not feeling sorry at all, “it is just that I am led to believe that maybe you are… _curious_ yourself…”

“I apologize,” Aspasia continued, “but it was not clear yet that I do not pick up other people’s trash?”

Guy smirked at her.

“For God’s sake, Guy, you are married!! To the princess!! And you are aiming so low, downgrading at every opportunity you get,” she continued, this time looking at the maid, blaming her.

“Watch it, Aspasia.”

“Or what? You will tell Sibylla I aggressed you? And then have to explain to her why I did that? Trust me, this will put you in a very awkward position and I will enjoy watching you try to explain to your wife what you were doing, alone with her maid, in this apartment room. Alcohol will not be a strong justification for your argument.”

“I said watch it, Aspasia.”

“Sibylla will learn about your little _adventures_ , trust me, if I was the Templar Grandmaster, I would have dropped you at Kerak, for Saladin to pick up –“

“-Yes, it is true that you are somehow familiar with the Templar Order…”

Aspasia squinted her eyes. He was taunting her right now; he did not really know anything about her background. “You speak and speak but your words have no meaning.”

“I knew that you are hiding a few things and that you are running away from something.”

“Shut up. You know nothing. You just speak to fill the void.”

“You seem to forget that I have contact with many orders from around the world,” Guy continued, “and I can send word out that you are in Jerusalem, causing me trouble.”

Aspasia shook her head. “I am not causing you trouble. You are looking for trouble and you are stupid enough to get caught.”

“We will see about that… Farewell, lady Aspasia…”

He turned his back to her, walked right past the maid and disappeared as well. Aspasia rolled her eyes and watched as the maid became small, head hanging low. She followed the same direction as Guy, and then disappeared behind another corner. Aspasia clenched her fists. She was fuming, angry at what was happening to Sibylla and anxious of having to be the one to deliver the news to the princess. The thought that Guy could be speaking the truth crossed her mind and made her body tremble. Did Guy really have connections so extended that they could reach her father? Or were those just empty threats to scare her off? Aspasia touched her face and tried to imitate the facial expressions she had shown while talking to Guy and asked herself if she had been too obvious. Should she tell Sibylla? Ruin the maid’s life? The princess and her maid had a very close relationship, the maid was almost a confidant to her. If Sibylla had to let her go, she would be broken, and her secrets and worries could be brought to the public if the maid desired to do that. And yet, if Aspasia kept quiet, Sibylla would perceive her as a traitor.

She wanted to speak to someone and weight her decision. The conversation she had, minutes ago, with the Patriarch, resurfaced to her mind. Going the right thing even if it was not easy. That included telling the truth, did it not? She understood she would have to tell Sibylla, but she did not want to bear the weight of the consequences. Could there not be anyone else to do it for her? She walked back toward the party, cracking her knuckles nervously. Could she tell her now? Ruin her mood for the party? She wanted to tell her quickly before Guy could get to her.

As she traversed the courtyard, she could see the infirmary. Phillip’s bed was in her range of view, and she saw that he was still asleep, unbothered by the music and the laughter. She decided against seeing him and heading directly to the party. Since she left, the music had gotten livelier, people have had a few drinks and the food off the tables was almost gone, but servants passed around and switched the empty plates with new dishes. Aspasia searched for the crowd for the Princess. It was not the right time to tell her, but she wanted to ask her for a few moments in private when the party was over. When she spotted her, speaking to a few other noblewomen, a body glued itself to her, wrapping a hand around her waist and placing a kiss on her temple. Aspasia stopped from her tracks, noting that it was Guy who had made it to her before Aspasia. There was no way she could speak to her, now that Guy was going to spend the rest of the evening joined by the hip to his wife.

She searched the crowd for Balian and found him mingling with another group. His eyes set briefly on Sibylla, then Guy, and he focalized his attention back to the conversation he was having. Aspasia tried to search for a place to sit, when Sibylla’s voice called for her. Aspasia turned around and saw the princess pushing away her husband’s hand and running to her. Guy wore a facial expression that seemed displeased, but he could not protest in public. Sibylla approached Aspasia, hugged her, and when she pulled away, she turned her gaze to Balian and smiled at him.

“Why did you not call me when you arrived here?” she asked, and then, in a whisper, she said: “I don’t know why Guy insists on spending the evening with me, he never does that.”

Aspasia sighed. “Sibylla, if he is acting strange, there is only one motive he would do that.”

“Hush. Let’s not speak about it tonight, it will ruin my mood. I will listen to your stories tomorrow, is that alright?”

Aspasia nodded her head. “Of course. Just don’t listen to all the nonsense he is about to tell you.”

“Do not worry. But tell me, where were you gone this whole time?”

“Just taking a walk.”

“Oh… I thought you had found yourself a man for the night…”

Aspasia was shocked and scoffed. “Me? Are you serious? Sibylla!!”

“What?”

“You-you… Ugh! You know me!! I would not do such a thing!”

Sibylla rolled her eyes and smiled at her. “Maybe this is just me thinking. I want you to be happy, Aspasia…”

“Thank you,” Aspasia responded.

“Trust me, I would love you to be my sister-in-law…”

Aspasia almost chocked on her own saliva. She laughed and gave Sibylla a squeeze in the arms. “Sibylla! Nonsense! Please stop, you are making me blush!”

“It is true! I never got along so well with another woman than with you! You are the perfect woman for my brother, a breath of fresh air and a challenge to keep all of us on our toes … but you know my worry in this regard…”

Aspasia took a deep breath. She wanted to cry a bit; she blamed the alcohol for getting her so emotionally vulnerable.

“There is nothing to worry about, Sibylla, you know very well that I don’t stand a chance…”

The princess cupped her face and in a serious tone, she said: “I have tried to speak to him before the party and my brother agreed to come and meet the other guests. He rarely comes down here, but I practically had to scold him. I have also told him to give you a chance to speak, and perhaps try to resolve this.”

“I doubt he will even bother to stay with me to speak about it. He is far too busy and tired of me.”

“We will see.”

A maid interrupted them and gave Sibylla a message. The two women looked in the direction of two doors that had opened, where most people were standing around. From where they stood, they could see the King, walking among the people and keeping a safe distance from them. He greeted the guests, welcomed them at the palace and waved his hand at them. Sibylla gave Aspasia a supportive pat on the back and ran to join her brother. Aspasia stood on her own, isolated from the others. The King spotted her, and after a moment of hesitation, he bowed his head at her to greet her. Aspasia bowed her head back politely, and Sibylla whispered something in his ear.

Aspasia realized she had had enough of this party. She tried to leave silently; happy the King was no longer looking at her. A maid had brought her a cup of wine, she looked at it, wondered if she should drink a second glass, and accepted it. She sipped it slowly, on her way out. She made her way toward the infirmary, ready to end the night when she decided to sit on a bench and finish her drink quietly.

She sat there for a long time, not thinking about or doing anything in particular. Looking down at her cup, she realized she had almost finished it, but she was not sure if she wanted to drink it all. She thought to herself that it was getting late, but at the same time, she had no particular plans for the next day and Sibylla will not be willing to continue her Greek lessons early in the morning. She contemplated drinking the last sip and asked herself if she was going to wake up with a headache the next day or not.

“Are you tired already?” a familiar voice asked her. She felt an instant rush of blood in her face and her ears. No need to turn around to see who it was, she recognized the King.

“Yes, a bit,” she admitted. She placed the cup on the ground and moved a bit to the side, in case he wanted to take a seat. The King looked down at the bench, and as if he was making calculations in his mind, he was debating whether it was safe for her to sit too close to him or not. He sat at the other end and placed his walking cane between them – this was the first time Aspasia saw him use a cane to help him walk.

There was a long moment of silence where they both watched Phillip in his bed, at the infirmary. Aspasia was unsure if she could leave at any moment or if she was supposed to spark the conversation. She was not in the mood to talk, knowing that the King was still angry at her. Still, the thought that he had made the effort to follow her into the garden outside the infirmary and sit next to her gave her a bit of hope. The King did not say anything, nor did he look at her directly, but he commented after a while: “you look a bit depressed, am I wrong to say that?”

Aspasia swallowed her saliva and turned her head toward him. “Is it that obvious?”

The King shrugged. “These past few days, I have been angry at you, but not depressed. I did not think this whole situation would affect you, especially know you got the result that you wanted.”

She sighed. “I don’t know what to say…”

There was another long pause. The King looked at the garden, then he looked up at the sky, and finally back at her. “This letter I have sent to the Kingdom of France, many months ago… I have yet to receive a response.”

“…What do you mean?”

The King shrugged his shoulders. “I do not know how to interpret that. I would believe any baron there would be interested in becoming King in the Holy Land. They seem to want to send pilgrims and crusaders, but this is not going to minimize the problem we have.”

“Does it not help at all?”

“We have enough people on this land trying to live in peace. They send outsiders who only hear tales and many of them are coming seeking money or war. People like Guy, if I may cite a name. It seems to me that the barons in France are only interested in the idea of war, and I must say I am disappointed in their superficial views of the Holy Land.”

“It has been so long, and we are pressed to have a new leader…” she whispered under her breath. The King must have been sharing with her only the surface of his problems. She could only imagine how worried he was about his own death, with his disease that kept on progressing, and his own death will lead to a kingdom without a just and secure leader. His sole heir was a young boy – very smart and talented, but also very young and naïve. On top of that, Aspasia was only causing him troubles by keeping Phillip alive.

“Can Tiberias or Balian be crowned?”

“Tiberias is already in charge of Tripoli, north of here. If he does so much in Jerusalem, it is because of me. As for Balian, this matter will be delicate to address him …”

“If you crown your nephew, he will have his mother and Tiberias and Balian at his side.”

“This shall be my last resort if I cannot find a solution. If I do so, I will only dump my own problems onto him, and have not resolved any issue.”

His hands were placed flat on the bench. His fingers were very close one to another, only his little one was more separated, pointing outward. Aspasia noticed the proximity of their hands; she could subtly touch his hand if she had wanted to. The King would not have felt her touch and would not have retracted his hand, in consequence. She would have brushed his little finger with hers if she was sure that the King would not have a negative reaction to it.

“I did not think of that aspect,” Aspasia admitted, “your nephew will have to deal with the same problems.”

There was a long pause where Aspasia tried to think of a solution. She looked over to the King and saw him just staring at the sky, not thinking of anything in particular. It seemed he had spent hours or even days or weeks trying to come up with a solution.

“What if you marry someone who already has a boy and crown him? Or what if you adopt a young man and crown him?”

He shook his head. “The power must stay within the family. I cannot simply introduce new people from the outside.”

“Of course, the bloodline is important…”

Another long pause. Her palms were sweaty, but Aspasia was getting a bit cold. She felt as if the wine had not made an effect on her, except it helped her relax a bit when around the King. She tried to imagine what his life must have been like. Since when did he wear a mask? How did it feel to know you will not produce an heir? That you will never be able to marry? Very few women were involved in his life, his own sister did not seem to be interested in helping him or in ruling herself. Would she have behaved differently if she were his sister? Aspasia knew she was not ambitious, but she would have imagined she would be crowned at his death and would have followed him throughout his day to day life, asking questions about politics, justice, morality, military… In hopes to learn something and follow his example when her time came.

To some extent, both their lives have taken a wrong turn; in his case, it was his disease, and, in her case, it was her mother’s death, which led her to go live with her father. She dealt with her issue by running, just like Sibylla avoided her responsibilities by partying and flirting when in the end, they had to face them. Aspasia learned it the hard way when she met Phillip.

“You have never considered getting married, despite the fact that it could not solve the problems you are facing?” Aspasia dared to ask. The moment she said that she instantly regretted it.

The King did not move much, but without making her feel awful, he responded seriously: “marrying out of love? I have not thought of that.”

“How so?”

“My disease tends to repulse people…” He probably would have mentioned how his own sister was disgusted by his face at Kerak, but he did not say it. Nonetheless, Aspasia understood.

“You are still a man full of beautiful qualities and looks are not all that matters. I am sure you must have some admirers, even though they will not openly manifest themselves,” Aspasia said.

There was a small, breathy laugh. “Thank you.”

She did not understand why tonight, she felt very bold. It was not the alcohol, her mind was still very clear, but maybe it was the fact that he had approached her to talk that gave her self-esteem a boost. She looked down at her fingers, her hands feeling a bit cold. Did the King not feel the cold outside?

“Have you ever admired a woman in the past?”

_Wrong move, wrong move, why did you ask that?_ She thought to herself. She could not step away now, but just own up to it.

The King took his time answering. “I must have, I believe, like all young men, although…”

Aspasia wanted to roll her eyes.

“Do you not remember?” Aspasia insisted.

“Sibylla had many friends who were pretty, but I don’t remember which one… Actually, I don’t even remember if I ever spoke to any of them… It may sound silly that I have no recollection of ever having feelings for anyone…”

Aspasia’s shoulders dropped heavily, and she focused her attention back to her hands, which were placed on her laps. That was not the answer she was expecting. She was thinking that he would have mentioned something about her, not one of Sibylla’s friends when they were still little kids. She did not care about them.

“Why must you always be so hot and then so cold to me?”

“What?”

The King looked at her, she did not dare face him.

“What are you talking about?” he insisted.

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “You heard me…”

“I don’t understand.”

She puffed. “It is confusing me, being around you. You are nicer and kinder to me than anyone, and after that, you make me feel as if it is not I the person you wish to be speaking to, in the moment.”

“What are you referring to?”

“After Kerak, when I visited you in your rooms.”

The King scrutinized her face, he probably did remember it.

“You are always friendly, and then you remove yourself. You sit always very far away but your words touch my heart. You keep telling me that you care about my well-being and happiness, and then you grow distant or act like you are too busy to see me. This is unfair and I don’t know how to feel, and if what I am feeling for you is even right.”

“Aspasia, I am really sorry, but I am confused…”

She sighed one more time. As she stood up, she accidentally pushed the cup. She replaced it back on the bench and told him: “I am confused as well, which is why what I am saying may not mean much right now. My apologies if I confused you too or I put you in an uncomfortable position, that was not my goal. It was the alcohol that made me speak like that. I … think I should go rest for the evening. Goodnight, my lord…”

She walked toward the infirmary, leaving before he could add anything. As she entered it, she made a turn behind a wall and hid in the dark. Her hands trembled, and everything she had said resonated back in her mind.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ she cursed herself. Tonight was the perfect opportunity to patch things up with the King, but she managed to make matters worse.


	38. The Promise of a Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phillip makes progresses physically but he has no memories of his past and Aspasia is becoming desperate, especially when others promise her Phillip will not remain a free man for long.

“Psst! Wake up!” A soft touch on her shoulder woke her up from her deep sleep. Aspasia opened her eyes groggily, memories of the previous night resurfacing almost instantly. Next to her, in bed, some weight was added onto the mattress. She turned around, and she noticed that Phillip had moved from his bed, somehow capable of walking with his bandaged foot, and he had been awake for a few hours now. Aspasia sat up and put a bit of distance between her and Phillip. “Finally, you are awake,” Phillip stated, “if I did not know any better, I would have said you are in a depressed state, for you to sleep so late.”

She had been reminded that Phillip depended on her to get food or information regarding how the situation evolved. She looked at his body and noticed he wore a new set of clothes, and his hair looked clean, so he must have taken a bath while she was asleep, with the help of a servant. “How long did I sleep?” she asked him.

“It is noon already, but do not worry, I have not seen anyone else around here, so I assume they must have drunk a lot of wine at that party, not to be able to wake up.”

Aspasia groaned. It was true. Sibylla was perhaps still sleeping; who knew if she had managed to get back to her rooms. Balian was still likely in Jerusalem, but he would leave for Ibelin later in the day. As for the King … Aspasia did not know. “Have you eaten?” she asked him. She was convinced, if he could not ask her to bring him food, he could ask a maid or a nurse to do that.

Phillip nodded. Then, he turned around and brought her a plate that was sitting on his night table. “I left half of it for you, I don’t know what you like to eat, so I made sure you would get a bit of everything.” Aspasia looked at the plate of food in shock. Like he had said, half the food, he must have eaten it, but the kind gesture was out of character. She tried to smile but could not bring herself to do it. She was not sure why. Perhaps that new role of hers was something she had yet to learn. She will have to learn from someone, but the only sister she knew was Sibylla, and Sibylla was not the typical example.

“How is your leg?” Aspasia asked him. Phillip looked down, moved it a bit in a few directions as if to show her, and replied ‘better.’ “Better? That is good to hear. Hopefully, we can give you a bit of exercise today.” She suggested.

Phillip moved from her bed and climbed back in his. As subtly as possible, Aspasia scrutinized him. Based on what she knew of him, she could tell that he was of Greek descent, but it was unclear if he was born in Jerusalem or if he had travelled there. She could not discern any specific accent and guess from which region he was for he spoke in a very generic manner, almost like how scholars spoke. That must have been the result of having travelled the world and learned many languages: one was bound to lose their local accent at some point. She tried to guess his age. He looked healthy and had nice skin, without wrinkles. She would have said he was ten years older than her, give or take. Her train of thoughts was abruptly interrupted when Phillip apologized to her: “I am sorry if I hurt your feelings when I act like... this. It must be painful for you to know that I don’t recognize you, but to me, everyone is like a stranger and being a brother is … all new to me.”

Aspasia looked down at her plate. Phillip looked at her, waiting for her answer. She did not know what to do with his kindness, and she felt very uncomfortable reciprocating it. She, too, was new at being a sister, if only she could admit that to him. “I would rather focus on your healing,” she said, matter-of-factly, trying to conceal her embarrassment, “we will figure out what to do with your memory loss.”

Phillip nodded.

←→

Phillip had joined Aspasia in the yard outside the infirmary, one nurse would be on her duties and occasionally check on them to see if Phillip needed help. Aspasia took him on a short walk and offered him her hand in case he needed help. After having walked back and forth, Phillip asked her to take him to a bench where he could sit. She did so, and Phillip sighed and relaxed his legs. “Tired already?” Aspasia asked.

“Not exactly tired…” he said, “more like I have not used them enough in the past days, so they feel numb and are hard to move.”

“You just need a bit of exercise,” she reasoned.

“Who would stab me like this in the foot, fuck…” he cursed, looking at his bandaged foot. Aspasia bit her tongue and watched him quietly. Phillip noticed that she has not moved and looked up at her. “Are you not going to sit down?” he asked. Aspasia nodded her head and sat down on the bench.

There was a long moment of quiet. They listened to the birds’s chirping and the wind blow. Currents of air formed as the wind passed between the buildings and towers. Aspasia sensed how unsettled he was, and so she placed her hand on his shoulder and said: “don’t stress too much over it. You will remember things with time.”

“I am not sure time will help… but if you say so…”

There was another long pause where none of them spoke. Some guards walked across the yard, chatting, and greeted them. The nurses were busy changing the bedsheets and complained in Latin about how some soldiers who were injured in battle did not follow their instructions on how to take care of their wounds.

Aspasia sighed. She placed her hand on her waistband, where there was the red jewel, and pretended she was stretching. She would have shown the red jewel to Phillip, but he could have probably turned on her if she did that too soon. She was going to take a more subtle approach instead. “If you have any questions for me, Phillip, you can ask me, and you know that, right?”

Phillip turned his face toward her. The sun was hitting him directly in the face. He squinted his eyes to look at her and said: “Yes, of course, Aspasia.”

“There is nothing off-limits. I just want to make sure you know that.” To that, he nodded his head. She was expecting him to ask her something, but he did not seem in a good mood. Not that something was surprising about it. She tried to rethink her tactic. Phillip was perhaps not going to speak on his own, but maybe she could lead him to do it somehow. “So, you don’t remember anything.”

“No,” he confirmed.

She nodded her head. “I know it sounds strange for me to ask, but I just … cannot imagine, this is surreal.”

“It is.”

“I don’t know what I would do… I would not remain calm,” she trailed off. There was a moment of silence, and Phillip nodded his head understandably. “Do you remember why… we came to Jerusalem?” she asked. On her face, she wore an expression of worry. Phillip was instantly intrigued, sensing the gravity of the situation. He frowned and asked her to explain. Aspasia was happy; she was getting him where she wanted him to be. “There was … a promise of bags of gold… Do you not remember that?”

“No.”

“We got later involved with another man…” she said, referring to the attacker who had come for her when she was with the King in his apartments, “and he had spoken about an artifact…”

“What artifact?”

“I have no idea. He said Saladin coveted it,” she was referring to what Phillip had told her before he lost his memories. There was no reaction from him, not an ah-ha moment which she was hoping for. “You truly do not remember…”

“I am sorry.”

She waved her hand. “It is alright… I believed you knew more about it than I did, but I guess not.”

“I am sorry,” he repeated.

“It is alright… We will work things out…We always did.” She took his hand in hers and gave it a firm squeeze. Phillip seemed to relax a bit. He let a breath out and looked around him. The castle was awfully quiet, a few servants walked the corridors, but everyone was still in their apartment, perhaps having just woken up.

“I would like to go back to bed,” Phillip told Aspasia.

“Of course.” She attempted to help him stand up. He stopped her but smiled; he was going to try to walk alone. He moved his foot in different directions, a bone making a popping sound, and then he walked at a semi-natural rhythm, although he did not look very comfortable doing so. When he finally reached his bed, he allowed his body to fall on it heavily and moved to the side, allowing his sister to sit next to him. Instead, Aspasia preferred to sit at his feet. Phillip looked a bit hurt but did not verbalize it. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Alright.”

A nurse arrived with a tray of food and placed it on Phillip’s lap. She asked Aspasia if she was hungry, but the young woman shook her head and thanked the nurse for asking her. She then turned to Phillip, who had started to eat the meat on the plate first. She would have asked if he liked meat that much to neglect the vegetables but asking this would not fit her story; she was his sister, after all, she was supposed to know such details. She picked up a piece of carrot that was on his plate with her fingers and brought it to her mouth. Phillip seemed surprised at her gesture and sighed. “Take it,” he said.

“You should eat everything that is on your plate. Wasting food is not good.”

“It is not a waste if you eat it.” Aspasia accepted the plate and finished what Phillip did not like. When she finished the plate, she placed it on the table next to the bed. She looked at Phillip, who seemed tired and no longer hungry – as long as she learned these little details about him, his personal tastes, his habits, and pinpoint patterns, she could more easily play the role of his sister. “You were sad yesterday, weren’t you,” Phillip asked, breaking the silence.

Aspasia laughed nervously. “Out of the blue…”

“I mean, you arrived from the party last night quite loudly and almost woke me up. I have fallen asleep quickly after. What happened?” Aspasia felt herself becoming smaller, shoulders in. She twirled a piece of her hair between her fingers. She was unsure if she should tell him too much about it. Do siblings share stories like that, where one got their heart broken? What if she told Phillip just enough to satisfy his curiosity and drop it after? “Were you speaking to the man in a mask or the older one?” he continued.

He was referring to the King and Tiberias, respectively. “I was speaking to the King, the one in the mask, yes.”

“And what happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Really? Why were you in a bad mood, then?”

“Nothing, Phillip.” Aspasia insisted. He dropped the subject before she got annoyed at him, but Aspasia could guess he would bring it up in the future. A figure appeared, and Aspasia recognized the Princess as she stood by a column. She smiled at Aspasia and nodded her head at Phillip, but it was only a matter of politeness. Aspasia encouraged Phillip to get some rest and joined the Sibylla. The Princess sent Phillip one last glance, there was a hint of fear in her eyes, and then looked at Aspasia. “You are such an early bird,” Aspasia joked. “What can I help you with?”

Sibylla invited Aspasia to walk through the yard in front of the infirmary, away from Phillip. Aspasia followed her, happy to spend some time with her. “I cannot help but fear for our safety – and for yours,” Sibylla confessed.

There was a sigh. “Phillip has been nothing but gentle and thoughtful so far… I might be able to keep him that way until I learn more from him about the red jewel.”

“That ruby… Is it necessary to do that? I fear he may be putting a façade as well.”

Aspasia looked over her shoulder to where Phillip was lying in his bed. He did not sleep yet, but his eyes closed and his whole body relaxed. “He … is the only one who can tell me more about it. He spoke of an artifact. There must be other pieces to it…”

“An artifact?”

Aspasia nodded. “Although I do not know what the purpose of this gem is, I ought to find out: it is important to others, then it must also be important to me.”

“Aspasia… The more we keep him alive, the more he represents a danger… I am starting to agree with my brother on this matter…”

“No, Sibylla, please not you as well.”

“Speaking of my brother,” she continued, “what happened between you two last night? He has not spoken to me at all about your conversation… Oh my, are you blushing, Aspasia? Tell me!”

Aspasia sighed. She hid her face in the palm of her hands, but Sibylla pushed them away. Her excitement over this was odd. Nothing about it made Aspasia happy. “Perhaps he does not want to speak about it for a good reason.”

“Is it embarrassing?”

“For me? Yes. For him? I don’t know, but he must have felt very uncomfortable. I drank last night, so maybe my mouth and my heart were thinking way ahead of me.”

“That is a poor excuse if I ever saw one!” Sibylla chuckled.

“Has he truly not said anything at all?”

“Well, the previous night, he was not feeling very well, so he sent me to fetch his physician. It was too bad that Saladin’s own men have left; Baldwin had not slept the whole night. I would suspect they gave him some new medicine that made him like that.”

Aspasia was surprised. “He did not sleep at all?”

“No, in fact,” Sibylla continued, “I think he fell asleep only a few hours ago after he was administered some drugs to ease his pain. You look worried…”

“… I am… I had not noticed anything when I spoke to him. Well, he did have a cane to help him walk, but otherwise, nothing unusual.”

“Ever since Kerak, I think his health has gotten worse…” Sibylla looked at Aspasia for a long time, waiting for an answer or a reaction, but Aspasia just looked into the void, unsure of what to do. She knew that she was the cause of his problems, but she could not help but feel like she was making matters worse for him. The King had enough enemies like he had told her a long time ago, and Aspasia did not want to become one of them.

“Should I … pay him a visit, perhaps?”

“Now?” Sibylla asked. Aspasia nodded. “No… Let him rest. You must take care of Phillip for now.”

“If I go and see the King, now or later, I will make matters more uncomfortable…” Aspasia deduced to herself.

Sibylla looked at her with a hint of pity in her eyes. By now, she must have guessed what had happened between her brother and Aspasia. She put a hand on the young woman’s shoulder and said: “I cannot repeat this enough, but guard your heart, Aspasia. If you let too many people in, you cannot discriminate against the bad ones. Regarding my brother, you know very well that he will never be capable of giving you what you want and what you deserve, not because he has a black heart, but because of his disease.”

“Yes… I remember you saying it was going to ‘be the doom of us,’ Sibylla.”

Sibylla smiled, glad to see Aspasia remembered her words. Truly, the Princess was happy that the two had found each other, but she could not help but worry that Aspasia was not prudent with her feelings. Her brother would not live long, give or take a few years, and Aspasia would have to go through the mourning with their own family.

After their discussion, Aspasia returned to nurturing Phillip. She brought him his meals and helped the nurse with her duties. Phillip has gotten better and become more independent, at this point, he was capable of walking to the baths on his own and change his own clothes. Aspasia was glad to see he was no longer relying on anyone. She tried to entertain him in any way she could; games and stories, but Phillip was more eager to take walks around the courtyard and do various physical activities, such as jumping or sprinting. He was close, but not there yet.

They had received the visit of Tiberias at one point, who had brought them their meal, and he asked about Phillip’s state, but it was in a very polite manner. Nothing too friendly. Phillip could not understand why people seemed to act cold toward him, and Aspasia made up a story, saying he had insulted Tiberias one time in public, and it almost resulted in a fight. Phillip laughed a bit and seemed to be convinced of her lie.

Before Tiberias could leave, Aspasia pulled him aside and asked for an update of the King’s physical state. There had been no changes, according to Tiberias, but at least he has gotten rest. That meant that Tiberias would have more work on his plate if the King could not share. “Why do you ask?” Tiberias then said, “you wish to pay him a visit?”

She bit her lower lip. “Not exactly…” She was not ready yet to visit him. And from what she understood, the King neither.

“About Phillip…” Tiberias continued, “we will have to do something about him. _Brother, or not_.” He put an emphasis on the last part.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Like the King has said, we will have to put him in prison.”

“But the King is bedridden!” Aspasia objected, “I know I can talk to Phillip! He was no harm to anyone so far!”

“Do you truly think that the dog would never bite its own master?” he asked her, raising an eyebrow.

“Stop it, with the metaphors! He has been conducting himself exemplary! You cannot do that! I need more time!”

She realized she had grabbed him by the sleeves and was shaking his arms. Tiberias stopped her and removed her hand. He then said with a severe tone: “This was the agreement. Once Phillip gets better, we remove him from the infirmary and place him in a cell.”

“That was my agreement with the King, but the King is not here right now, so you have no bargaining power here, Tiberias.”

“Nice try, but I am his representative in this situation. We will move him tomorrow, and that is the final decision.”

Tiberias took a step back and walked away before she could catch up to him or protest. Aspasia watched him helplessly and then turned to Phillip. He has not heard anything but instead was in a state of deep sleep after having eaten. Her shoulders dropped heavily. She had to talk to the King if she wanted to change Tiberias’s mind, but after their last interaction and his current state, it seemed as if it would not happen anytime soon. No one was on her side this time. Even Sibylla wanted him behind bars. Phillip was harmless, so long he did not regain his memories, and he trusted Aspasia blindly.

The young woman returned to her bed, next to Phillip’s, and looked at him sleep soundly, breathing slowly. At night, she tried to sleep but could not bring herself to do so. Her own mood had worsened, she hid her face in the covers and rubbed her eyes to prevent herself from crying. If Phillip got thrown in prison, he would lose all trust in her, and Aspasia could never gain anything from him. Realizing she will never fall asleep when she felt anxious and depressed, she sat on her bed and massaged her own feet. She had openly told the King she would disobey him if he ever tried to touch Phillip, which displeased him. Why would she give up on him now? She glanced over at Phillip, who turned in his bed, completely unaware of what was coming ahead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to incorporate here some songs that are inspiring me to write and songs that suit the characters and the story. I hope you enjoy them!
> 
> Bayek of Siwa - Assassin's Creed Origins Soundtrack  
> Return of the Medjay - Assassin's Creed Origins Soundtrack  
> The Battle of Krokodilopolis - Assassin’s Creed Origins Soundtrack  
> Dead Man Walking - WAR*HALL (Epic Rock)  
> King of the World - WAR*HALL (Epic Rock)  
> Another Level - Oh The Larceny  
> Roots - Imagine Dragons


	39. The Man with White Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to Aspasia's life in Macedonia with her mother.

Aspasia remembered her life in Macedonia with her mother very fondly. Over the years, after having hated living with her father and the Templars, she told herself that her life with her mother was the calm before the storm. She recalled having a normal childhood, spent between working with her mother at her shop or in the house, and playing with the other children in the streets of the village. They never struggled with money, but they could not allow themselves to be wasteful either. Aspasia remembered her things in the house: the clothes she wore while she worked, the pretty dresses she had saved and folded nicely in case of an important occasion like a holiday or baptism, and the clothes that were too big for her yet.

As for her toys, she only had a few toys, but she loved them dearly and took care of them as if they were little living beings. Other children would borrow toys from others and forget to bring them back, while some did not care if they got scratched or if the paint was washing away. She had taken care of her items, clothes and toys, very carefully because she knew she could not afford new ones if they got ripped or broken.

Their house was small compared to others, but it was only her and her mother. They had a big bed, a kitchen, a garden and even an attic where they stored their provisions for the winter. Their house required a lot of work so while Aspasia’s mother spent the majority of the time at the textile shop, Aspasia was in charge of keeping the house tidy. That meant passing the broom, dusting off the furniture, watering the garden and helping her mother in the kitchen. Her mother was already tired after work, she would only cook dinner, do the dishes and take care of the laundry.

It came a day in the summer that was colder than usual. Grey clouds hovered over the village, but it did not rain. Aspasia had been out on the streets, playing with her friends at all sorts of games. The children in the village tended to be loud and bothering those who were in the area. They would play in the middle of the streets or in a dangerous place like the woods. Sometimes they would poke fun at people who lived in the houses nearby or chase after a pig or goat that was people who were trying to work. Once in a while, when they would find a tree with mulberries, they would work as a team to climb it and pick the fruits. One of their favourite games was playing with a ball, but that too they played it in the middle of the street. They kept accidentally kicking the ball into yards or houses, and in the past, they had broken some vases at the potter’s shop. When that happened, the children ran away before the shop owner could catch them and beat them, and they vowed to never play ball in front of his store again.

That cold day of summer, fewer children had gathered to play, Aspasia did not know the reason. From those who showed up outside to play, half were called back home a few hours later to help with supper. The kids that remained could not form teams to play and so they had to play another game. “Do you think it’s going to rain?” Asked a kid, a worried look on his face.

Aspasia shrugged. “Like we care,” she answered.

“You’re just saying this to act tough!”

“Am not!”

Their little banter was quickly interrupted by the sound of horses galloping. Far into the distance, at the border of the village, there were men on horses wearing uniforms. Everyone seemed suddenly aware of their arrival. From afar, they could see the noticeable red cross on their chest and white uniform, sign of the knight order they belonged to.

“Loukas! Come here!” a woman shouted at her son.

“But mom! It is not raining yet and I want to play – “

“- I said come here!”

The little boy named Loukas walked after the woman, head hanging low. Aspasia watched him, wondering why his mother was in such a worry. She looked at the other boy who remained, and now that it was only the two of them left, their options in games were limited to hide-and-seek. “Perhaps we should go home…” he said.

“No, Alexis!” Aspasia shouted, “come on, don’t ruin the fun!”

They moved on the side of the road for the men on their horses to pass. As they entered the village, they slowed down. Aspasia looked at them with big eyes. She heard stories of knights travelling to foreign lands. They looked exactly like those knights in tales. “Look! They have a dog!” shouted Alexis.

The two children ran to meet the pet. One of the knights remained behind while the others advanced in a group. The children asked if they could pet the dog and the knight said yes. He then showed them how to throw a stick and how the dog would bring it back. “What is his name?” Aspasia asked.

“Perseus.”

“Like the hero!”

She smiled when the knight approved. The knight gave the children some treats for the dog and instructed the children on giving Perseus orders. The dog was very well-behaved and licked the palms of the two children as if to wash away the last bits of its treat that remained. The two children giggled, looking at each other. The knight tied his horse to a tree and sat on the grass while the children played with his shield and the dog.

“Please, teach us something!” Alexis begged. “My mom said you know how to fight, and I want to learn how to fight too!”

The knight chuckled at the boy. He picked up a large stick that was on the ground and gave it to Alexis, then he took the shield and gave it to Aspasia. “Alright, in this case, you have to listen very carefully to what I am about to show you…” he showed Alexis how to hold the stick, as if it was a weapon, above his head, and firmly. “Now you,” he spoke to Aspasia, “you must hold the shield like this. If he strikes from above, you just have to do this,” and he mimicked the gesture. “Now try.” Alexis pretended to hit Aspasia with the stick and the little girl blocked it. “This is good. One more time, but this time, you will hit from the left… No, this is right. I said left…”

And before the knight could understand, the two children had begun playing fight, completely ignoring him and his instructions. He sighed, tired, and sat down on the grass, while Alexis hit with the wood the shield. Both children created their own sound effects, pretending to be duelling, and then they would switch, Aspasia would take the stick and Alexis the shield. Hearing the noise and laughs, other children came and joined in. Some wanted to try the armour while others thought that racing with the dog was going to prove they are the fastest kid.

“Watch out, do not scratch that shield!” the knight shouted as one of the kids repeatedly hit the shield with the stick. They played like this until the knight told them it was time for him to go. He picked up his items, gave the children a few pieces of candy he had brought from his trip abroad, and climbed back on his horse, Perseus running after. The children tried to chase him until the outskirts of the village, but Aspasia stopped running when she reached her house. Her mother had been at home, washing clothes and bedsheets, and she was picking up what had tried, but this time, she had stopped working to speak to a knight.

Aspasia looked at the man, with white hair that reached his shoulders. His hair colour resembled snow and Aspasia had only seen old people with hair as such, it came to a shock to see the knight was around her mother's age. She had never met him before, and he looked imposing and scary, with a few visible scars from battle on his face and hands. She looked at her mother, who stood by the fence as if to prevent the man from walking on the property, and arms were crossed on her chest. Aspasia approached them, thinking her mom would need help and protection, but when her mother saw her, she hissed: “Aspasia. Go inside.”

There was no time for discussion. Aspasia looked at her mother, the severe look on her face clearly telling her that she was not to ask questions, and just obey. Aspasia did so but not without sending the man the meanest look she could. She had to make it clear to him that he was not welcomed there. No one was to mess with her mother. She walked inside and closed the door behind her, but she remained quiet and attempted to listen to the conversation. She could barely distinguish a few words, the two adults have switched to Greek, which Aspasia did not speak perfectly, but she could understand the underlying message and the emotions.

That man did not stay long. He had spoken something about money, and about clothes – maybe he was referring to Aspasia’s mother’s shop? “This is perhaps the last time you will see me, Dafne…” said the man, but he sounded sad more than anything. Aspasia’s mother interrupted him, but Aspasia could not understand because she spoke too quickly. That man left not long after, and Aspasia’s mother came back inside, with laundry in the basket to fold. She tasked her daughter to do it while she went to prepare dinner. And just like that man had told them, he never came back. That was until tragedy struck Aspasia, a few years later.


	40. Escape into the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia and Phillip make an escape.

Aspasia dropped a heavy bag on Phillip’s stomach. He jumped, awoken from his deep sleep, and gasped as the air left his lungs. He coughed a bit and looked up at Aspasia, who stood beside his bed, dressed and her own bag on her shoulder. She helped him get up and asked: “sorry for waking you up like this, but I don’t have much of a choice,” she told him.

“What is going on?” he asked, searching for the cup of water that was on the table near him, and drank what was left of it. He looked at the bag, inspected the inside, and found a few sets of clothes, some coins and some water and food. “What? Where? Huh?”

“Shuuush.” Aspasia responded, “we must go before the sun rises.”

“Why?”

“You are not safe here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Phillip!” Aspasia was getting more and more annoyed by the constant questions. “We do not have much time. I have two horses outside that await us, and if someone catches us – or finds the horses – I will be in big trouble. I must get you out as soon as possible, trust me on this.”

“What do you mean by trouble? Have I done something wrong?”

Noticing that he was beginning to panic, Aspasia instantly attempted to calm him down. “You and I both,” she said, “listen. We are in this together. I am your sister and I am going to be here for you. You must listen to me, they want to throw you in jail and if they succeed, I might not be able to get you out after, so we must run away and hide.”

Phillip was still not satisfied by the answer, but he quickly got dressed, put on some shoes and a second layer of clothing. “Where is the nurse?”

“Do not worry, she is asleep. I put something in her drink.”

“What?”

“Shushh!!! You’re so loud, you will wake her up! This is why I tell you to hurry up, she will realize what I have done.”

Phillip jumped on one leg to make sure he could walk, and it appeared he was more comfortable at it. Not perfect, but he could run and jump, and that was the most important. “I cannot believe they want me in prison… I knew they did not like me but …”

Aspasia gave him a sad look. “Cry about it if you want but do it after we escape.”

“You are right.”

She then opened her own back and pulled out something. Phillip looked at the gauntlets made of leather, with bits of metal plaques for added protection. Aspasia helped him put them on and showed him the hidden blade. As she did that, she paid close attention to his facial expressions. He seemed to go through shock, then relief, then curiosity. Perhaps he had no recollection of using the objects but still knew what it was and how to use it. He looked at it for a long time and then at Aspasia and nodded his head.

“I am ready.”

“Good,” she replied. “I don’t know how things will go from this point onward, but you have to listen to me. Got it?”

“Yes.”

Phillip grabbed his things and Aspasia moved a few pillows and covered them with the bedsheets. From afar, anyone would think there was a body in the bed. She looked around to make sure there were no guards around and led the way out. They walked in the shadow, alongside the walls, and in direction of the southern gate. From there, they will take a horse, cross the edge of the city, and disappear in the desert. Aspasia’s plan was to lead them as far away from Jerusalem, perhaps even border Muslim lands where they would not be paid attention to.

Phillip managed to walk at a normal pace and keep up with her, despite his injuries. He showed himself very cooperative, making sure no one had spotted them behind. “This way,” Aspasia whispered as they made a turn. The hallways were quiet, few guards would patrol but Aspasia had learned the path they traced and how often they did that. Servants would occasionally travel but many did not pay attention to Aspasia, with whom they had gotten used to, as long as Phillip remained hidden until they passed and walked away.

“Hey!” a voice called out.

Aspasia and Phillip froze. A guard, across the hallway, had spotted them. He held a torch in his hand approached them. “Shit,” muttered Aspasia. She would have to explain to him what she was going, in the castle at night, with a bag on her back and her hood.

“Run!” Phillip muttered back, and he sprinted in the opposite direction. Aspasia’s heart began racing and she followed him. The guards began chasing after them but had trouble catching up. Phillip climbed on a column to get to the next level, and Aspasia followed him, surprised to see he remembered how to use such skills. He helped her get up and the two kept running. The guard had begun to scream, sending the alarm that there might be an intruder and shouting orders to other guards in the area. Phillip ran ahead, leading them in the opposite direction from where the horses were, but they would find a way to get to them once they escaped.

“Not this way! No!” Aspasia shouted as she realized where Phillip led them. They climbed on another wall, reaching another level. The grounds of the palace were swarming with guards. Torches lit the courtyard, as they searched for the intruders. Soon, they will climb up to investigate and they would be stuck. Phillip had led them straight to the royal apartments. Sibylla’s and Baldwin’s rooms were on one side of the structure while the King’s apartments were isolated from them. “Phillip! Slow down!” she hissed.

Phillip waited for her. She looked around, wondering where the King’s guards and servants were. This place usually had someone patrolling, ever since the incident with the intruder. She inspected the place and found it to be empty and quiet. The King must have fallen asleep. She whispered to Phillip: “alright, we will have to go through his apartments. The King will most likely be asleep in his bedroom, we will have to cross the living room and head to the balcony.”

“Can we jump, from there? This tower is too high for us to land safely.”

“We should be capable of doing that, normally. Whatever happens, you stay behind me. I will go first, to make sure the coast is clear, and then you follow me. Stay hidden, alright?”

Phillip nodded. Aspasia opened the large doors slowly to avoid making any noise and squeezed herself to pass. She noted how quiet it was and how the room smelled of the King’s medication, all sorts of ointments and plants. The servants must have left not long ago, and the King was perhaps asleep at this point. She looked around the room, nothing unusual, and then looked at the bedroom, where the door was left open. She could not see the bed from where she was standing and so she took a few steps forward.

“Aspasia? Is that you?”

She froze on her spot. _Shit, no, no, no, no._ Was he awake at such an ungodly hour? How did he know it was going to be her? She turned around and found the King lying on the canopy instead of his bed. His gaze slightly vacant but his senses were acute. He must have taken some opiates which made his mind more turbulent than usual. Aspasia approached him quietly, thinking that he had fallen asleep just as soon as he pronounced her name.

“How did you know it was me?”

She approached him and got on a knee next to him. He lifted his hand up, almost as if to search for her, and she took it between her hands, passing her thumber over his knuckles, covered by the gloves. Did he sleep with his mask on? With his gloves and bandages? Why was he still wearing his clothes from the day?

“It was just a feeling…” he admitted, “you have your own way of walking, I recognize that pattern, I suppose.”

She thought he smiled a bit behind his mask, although she could not see it. “Why are you not asleep?”

“I was in pain. I don’t know why I have not been feeling so well, these past days. The physicians came quickly but there wasn’t much they could do…”

“So, they gave you opiates?”

“Yes…” he breathed heavily. Aspasia nodded her head and placed her hand against his cheek. The metal was cool under her touch. How did it feel, to have it on his face, constantly?

“The bed is far more comfortable than the canopy,” she told him. “Should I get you to bed, my lord?”

“Oh no, please. I am sick of being in bed… I wanted to walk a bit, to use my muscles, but for some reason, my head was spinning a bit. Perhaps it was because I did not eat, and the drug combined…”

“You must eat… You cannot afford to be negligent with your health,” Aspasia scolded him.

The King laughed a bit. “You sound like my own mother when you say that.” Aspasia laughed quietly. There was a moment where the two were quiet, unsure of what to say. Aspasia looked into his blue eyes and rememorated the night of the party. She imagined that, after that conversation, she would get flustered when she would have to talk to him, but to her own surprise, she felt comfortable and at ease around him, as if what had happened did not matter or it did not change the nature of their friendship.

“When I heard noises around, earlier when you just came, I feared there was an intruder again,” the King spoke. “At least now I know it is you. I am glad you came to see me,” he admitted.

“I… didn’t come for that, my lord,” she admitted. “And I did intrude, as I am not supposed to be here.”

He looked a bit hurt; she saw it in his eyes, but he continued: “nonetheless, I am happy you are here…” His breath was cut short and he winced behind the mask. Was he in pain? She tried to help him adjust his position by placing a pillow behind his head, but the King gestured her to stop. She sighed. “I thought you would not come to see me, and that I will not be able to come to see you either… I had been meaning to talk to you, about what you have said to me last time because I have had the opportunity to think about it… Oh Lord, this feels as if I have not spoken to you in years, I have missed you, even though we have seen each other a few days ago.”

“Shush,” she urged him, sensing he was getting emotional. “A few days is a long time... No need to speak of it, I am sorry for having put you on the spot, I was not feeling like myself these past days. I was told by the others to let you rest… Perhaps I should have not listened to them and come to visit you.”

The King and Aspasia chuckled at that at the same time. He told her: “I don't think you understand what I mean... But dear, you chose the wrong time to be obedient, didn’t you?” They spent a moment in silence, looking in each other’s eyes. Unsure of what to say, Aspasia lowered her gaze and tried to take a step away. She placed the King’s arm alongside his body and pushed his veil aside a bit to see his face more clearly.

“Why do you have this bag… with you?...” the King noticed her items. Then he noticed her clothing. “Where are you heading, Aspasia?...”

She shushed him and pushed him gently back on the canopy. He tensed even more and wanted to take her hand to stop her from leaving but Aspasia placed a warm hand on the cheeks of his mask. “All will be fine.”

“You are not answering my questions.”

“I am sorry, my lord.”

“Aspasia… Please, talk to me.”

She shushed him once again and pulled his hand away from her arm, one finger at the time. “We were not supposed to be here. You were not supposed to be awake.”

“We? Who is _we_?”

Phillip was somewhere in the room, in the shadows. Aspasia could not see him. He must have heard every bit of the conversation. “I am really sorry… Please, do not think I am doing this to hurt you,” she tried to explain to the King, while she caressed the top of his head, “but rather that I am doing this because I am desperate.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You will understand what I am talking about tomorrow… I must go now, the guards will be here soon… please don’t think ill of me,” she insisted. She pulled away; the King had tried to grip to her hand, but she slipped between his fingers. She walked around the canopy and searched the apartment for Phillip. He was good at hiding, where was he? “Phillip? Are you here?”

She ventured around in the other rooms when there was a gasp coming from the living room. She ran there out to see what had happened and found Phillip sitting on top of the King, hands around his throat as if trying to hold him in place or to asphyxiate him. “PHILLIP!!” she shouted. She sprinted to him and pinned him down, Phillip’s body hit a table nearby. The King finally regained his breath, which only reassured Aspasia. She stood up, pulling Phillip up by the collar of his shirt and shook him violently: “FUCKING TRY TO DO THIS ONE MORE TIME AND I WILL KILL YOU BEFORE THE GUARDS GET TO PUT THEIR HANDS ON YOU.”

“HE’S AN ENEMY, ISN’T HE?” Phillip responded back. “YOU WERE SUPPOSE TO CLEAR THE WAY FOR US TO GO.”

_SLAP!_

She smacked him in the face and dropped him violently. He fell on his butt and kicked him in the stomach, enough to hurt him. “I will tell you who is the enemy and who isn’t. If you lay hands on him ONE. MORE. TIME,” she takes out a short sword she had at her hips and pointed it at Phillip, “I will cut you and feed you to the pigs, is that clear?”

Phillip crawled back and got up. She pushed him once again to make him move faster. When he was far enough from the King, she finally began breathing normally. Phillip headed to the balcony first. He jumped and landed in a bush and moved out of the way. Then, he sprinted toward the wall and waited for Aspasia to join him, where they would help each other climb it. Aspasia passed her legs over the baluster and sent the King one last glance. He had pushed himself up, holding his head in his own head, confused and saddened to see Aspasia sneak away. “I am so sorry, my lord. You are right; he can be unpredictable. I will take him away, where he cannot hurt you or anyone else you love.” Has he heard what she said? Aspasia was not sure. She hated having to leave like this, the King would wake up the next day, wondering what had happened and angry at her.


	41. The Contact of Masyaf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia and Phillip had run away and they hid in Syria, where the soldiers of the Kingdom of Jerusalem cannot reach them. Over there, they meet a man who seems to recognize Phillip and Aspasia as well. He may become in the future an ally or an enemy, depending on how the situation evolves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those are two chapters but I have managed to write one very long! I am proud of myself! This still needs editing but I am glad to have posted it!
> 
> Masyaf is the birthplace of the assassin Altair and a very important city for the brotherhood, which is why I incorporated this element. This is not something that will reappear in the story, further on, it was just meant to replace the story in its context, of the video games.

Days ago, they made the escape and now, the two siblings had run and lived hidden from the world. Aspasia and Phillip have crossed the border on horseback to Syria and hidden in a cave, somewhere at the base of the mountains. With a fire to keep them warm at night and to cook their food, they set their items and equipment inside a cave, and they would sleep on the ground. They managed to hunt for meat and gather plants and berries, where a few trees grew. The two had spent the past days barely speaking to each other. They only talked when it was necessary, and spent most of the time apart, one of them was sleeping while the other one was guarding, one went hunting while the other fished or gathered plants.

Luckily for them, not far from where they set camp, there was a Muslim village where few travellers passed. It was a good place from where they could restock their rations and provisions if they needed to. Once in a while, they would head to the market, unnoticed, trying their best to blend with the crowd, and head back to their hiding before it got dark outside. One day, while the two of them had headed to the village to purchase what they needed, they had come across a Saracen who noticed Phillip and seemed to recognize him. He began speaking to him lively and happily as if he had known him for a long time. He had short dark hair, very curly, and almond-shaped eyes, a skin tone that was quite dark, due to the Sun and to his ancestry. When he had met Phillip, he sent Aspasia a quick glanced and continued speaking to him, as if she was not standing there. Phillip, after Aspasia had elbowed him subtly in the rib, telling him to pretend to act normal, kept on the conversation with the man, listening to him speak. Aspasia stood there awkwardly, not understanding a single word they said as they spoke in Arabic – as if they did that on purpose so that she would be excluded. She watched Phillip speak fluently, wondering how many other languages he knew but forgot he did. As for the man, judging by his dishevelled clothes, he looked like a poor pilgrim from the Muslim world, but he seemed knowledgeable on the lands. This was all a façade, Aspasia understood.

After he had left, Phillip finally relaxed. The two of them were alone again, both equally confused by their new encounter, and they continued walking through the market. Aspasia did not ask questions until after they had brought all their food, medicine and headed back to their shelter, outside the village. “What did you speak about?” Aspasia asked Phillip, breaking the long silence between the two of them. He looked at her and then he lowered his gaze. He took a long time to answer her, perhaps still angry at the fact that she beat him when he attempted to strangle the King of Jerusalem. They had not spoken on that matter since the event. “Something about the Templars causing problems around the region.”

“What type of problems?”

“A political problem,” he answered. “He was referring to something only insiders could know of.” He took a long pause, Aspasia waited for him to say something, and he noticed she wanted to ask more questions, so he continued: “apparently, the French knights have been quite reckless these past days and they have been causing problems for the Order. The Saracens are not too happy about it. He said something about meeting at Masyaf. Why do you think he would want us to meet him there?”

“I have no clue… There isn’t much there to see, just a castle but otherwise…”

“Could it be a trap? Should we go?” Phillip asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Aspasia sighed. She was curious to know what happened, but she feared it would help Phillip regain his memories too quickly. In addition to that, they would be venturing into the unknown, meeting with people who could possibly harm them. Aspasia was not convinced it was the right thing to do. “Perhaps… Does he want to meet us in private? Him alone?”

“He was not clear when he said that,” Phillip said.

“Then… Let us consider this before we make a hasty decision.”

“I agree. Tell me, though… How do I know this man? Who is he exactly? He does not seem to like you.”

“I don’t have the answer to that, I fear. I have never met him before but he seems to know you so that is enough.”

“But I don’t understand… how come we arrived at Jerusalem together, but we don’t know the same people? You should recognize him, shouldn’t you?”

“We… got separated at some point.”

“How?”

“Well, we were tasked to … steal something important from Tiberias. Do you remember who Tiberias is? The older gentleman at the palace. The one who is constantly working with the King. When we proceeded with the mission, I was caught but you managed to escape. You may not remember that episode, I was convinced you will come to get me out of prison, and I ended up negotiating my way out. I don’t know where you were and what you did while I was at the palace, but you must have met him in that time frame, I would guess.” Her heart raced in her chest. She was very content with herself; she had never known before that she was good at lying. Everything came naturally, as she used her own personal story to describe his. Phillip seemed to take her word for everything – after all, she was his sister and she wanted the best for her brother who had lost his memories. Fortunately, he did not ask her where he learned Arabic, or why did she not speak it – Aspasia could not have answered that. They reached the stables where they had left their horses, climbed them and headed back to their hideout, somewhere at the base of a mountain.

When they arrived at camp, Phillip began setting their newly acquired goods while Aspasia walked around their hideout. Not far from there were trees, a different type from the ones found in the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Their wood was somewhat strong and durable but needed polished if they wanted to make use of it. She had found a few fallen branches that were the length of two arms. She took out a pocketknife, sat down on a rock and began pulling off the dead leaves, then cutting the bark and making it as smooth as possible. A few hours have passed, Aspasia sat alone, working on those branches while Phillip started a fire. The sky was getting darker and darker and Aspasia was not back yet. From afar, Phillip could see her, very focused on her work, now the branches completely clean and straight, as she twirled them in the air as if to test them. He was not too sure of what to do, not really wanting to speak to her after what had happened at the palace, but at the same time, he needed to ask her about what was going to be their next step. They could not possibly remain in that desolated area for too long. Perhaps they would have to return to Macedonia, and start anew there, while hiding from what they had run away. He placed pieces of meat and vegetables on a stick and kept them above the fire as they cooked. He looked up, in the direction where Aspasia was, she seemed to be testing those sticks against another tree as if they were some sort of javelin. 

Not long after, Aspasia came back to camp, two primitive weapons in her hands. In the end, the edge was a bit pointy, but not enough to pierce through the flesh. Phillip, having already eaten and had left some food for Aspasia when she was ready to come back. When she approached him, showing him the javelins in her hands, he wiped his hands on his pants and leaned back, not in the mood to talk to her or participate in her activities. “One for you…” she said, throwing that stick on his lap, “and one for me.” Phillip grabbed it and looked at it, analyzing the wood and the quality of the weapon. Sturdy but slightly flexible. It would not break in two easily if it hit a solid surface. The signs of the cuts were visible on it, but Aspasia had done a good job at making them. “What is this for?” he asked her, looking up, only to see a big smile on her lips. The flames and the shadows gave her a strange look, almost a mix of happiness and murderous intents.

“We must train,” she reminded him as she placed the stick behind her shoulders and neck and her hands on it, “if we don’t want to lose our abilities and skills. I feel like my muscles are becoming like rocks, and I will soon not be able to move the same way as I used to.”

Phillip looked at her for a long time, passing his tongue over his teeth and sighed. She was correct about that, but it did not sit right with him. “I believe you are just using this opportunity to try to beat me,” he told her.

Aspasia grinned. “I see you are still angry, after what happened. Don’t expect me to apologize, you deserve it. But that anger is good – you should use it to fight me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Come on.”

“I said no.”

“Do it.”

She kicked the ground, sending small pebbles and sand on him. Some of it landed on the fire, almost extinguishing him, the rest got in his mouth, his nose, his eyes. His reflex was to jump up and close his eyes, wiped off as much as he could and then jump at Aspasia’s throat. The two of them rolled in the dirt, struggling, kicking, punching, pulling. Aspasia managed to escape his grip and grabbed her newly made javelin. Phillip rolled toward his and both stood motionless, their weapon pointed at the other. Out of nowhere, Aspasia began laughing, a wicked look on her face, which only confused Phillip even more. “You think this is funny,” he spat, “YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY??”

Aspasia only laughed more. “You were making such weird faces!” she retorqued and proceeded to imitate his facial expressions. Swiftly, Phillip used his javelin to grab Aspasia’s, passing his under and pulling her toward him. Refusing to let go of her weapon, she fell to the ground at his feet and Phillip jumped on her back, pinning her down. “You really find this funny, huh,” he said, then lifted her by the back of her neck and smashing her face against the ground. He pushed her head harder until all her face was in the dirt. Aspasia’s body began shaking and movie, trying to watch some air. Phillip held her firmly and in one second, he let go. He moved aside, stood up and took two steps back, watching in horror his sister. What was he thinking? Was he hoping to suffocate her? She could not drown in the sand, exactly, it would not get through her lungs. “Stupid bitch,” he spat and gave her a kick in the hips.

Aspasia used her arms to push herself up. She watched Phillip walk away, back turned to her. He was clearly in shock for having wanted to murder his own sister. She rolled on her back. Above her, the starry sky looked limitless. She lifted her hand and rubbed her chin, still in pain after what Phillip had done to her. She sighed, and told herself she had learned two valuable lessons that day:

  * Despite having lost his memories, he has not changed: the Phillip now was the same Phillip as back then,
  * He was far, _far_ stronger than she was.



If he had not regained control over his emotions, he would have killed her for good. If things took a wrong turn and Aspasia wanted to beat him, she would have to find a way to use someone else to do that job, for she would not be capable.

←→

The following days, they had spent them separate, each doing their own thing. They made sure someone remained at the camp and all times while the other could roam about. At night, their designated place to sleep was separated one from the other, but at all times, someone was awake and guarded the camp, from bandits and from animals. Several days later, the time for Phillip to meet with his contact came and Aspasia joined him, to make sure he would not be ambushed. They gathered their items, climbed their horses and rode to Masyaf. They happened to have come across, on their path, with the man who they had met in the market, days ago, and he led them off the path, toward what seemed to be like a small oasis outside the city. When they had gotten to the destination, they let the horses drink water from the pond, and they sat underneath the shadow of a palm tree. Aspasia had told Phillip to pretend he could still remember and to find out as much as he could from his contact about what was happening.

The man, seeing that Aspasia was going to fully take part of the conversation, said something to Phillip, visibly displeased by the circumstances. Phillip replied to him in Greek: “speak in Greek, she is fully part of this.”

He did not hide his disgust for her but listened to Phillip. “This is just confusing…” the man spoke with a heavy Arabic accent, “alright, as you wish.” The man’s name was Kazem, and he was also a Templar. Apparently, they had members in the Muslim world as well, who fought for their ideals – a world where all crime and evil could be eradicated, for good. It seemed like an unattainable dream, but people had set aside their religion in order to achieve this common goal. Kazem spoke about the problems the Templar knights from France have been causing. “They simply are not familiar enough with the problems that we deal with here and they think they can simply sail ships here and teach us how to deal with the problems here. These two nations have been at war for years… Ever since the grandparents of the two royal siblings. They begin acting recklessly, killing people for sport or for a dare. It seems they have lost the true sense of what it is to be a Templar.”

“Driven by money and ambition…” continued Phillip for him. Aspasia was pleasantly surprised to see that Phillip could act so naturally in this conversation with Kazem, to the point of convincing him that he knew exactly what he was talking about. Phillip looked at Aspasia, sensing of her approval, and looked back at the man. “What have you been doing lately? For our end, these men you are speaking of do not seem to budge, no matter what we do…”

“… as if they are out of the loop,” Kazem continued for him. “Yes, some knights are kept in the dark, and they are simply used to perform tasks for the public. To convince them they are doing good. We cannot afford to work from the shadows, otherwise, we will lose the trust of the people.”

“That was exactly my thought.”

“Due to their special relationship with the Vatican and the Franks who have settled in the Holy Land, they had started to believe that they had special rights and privileges that distinguished them from the others, and the others were not too happy about that.”

Aspasia listened carefully to Kazem. She related all that to Guy, who despite being a Templar himself, did not seem to be aware of the bigger picture. The Order fought for a specific set of ideals, a vision of a better world, but Guy seemed to be unaware of most of it. Perhaps the Templars had realized he was too stupid to even believe that something was taking place behind the scenes, but they will soon learn that is he not favoured by the people and he will have trouble imposing the Templars as a major force in the Holy Land on his own. Phillip was told by her to pretend nothing Kazem said was news to him, and he played that role well, even occasionally agreeing with him on how problematic some knights could be.

There was a pause, a moment of silence. Suddenly, in the sky, a loud shriek caught their attention. Phillip and Aspasia looked up and saw a giant bird flying over them, casting down a shadow around them. “No fear,” Kazem spoke, “this is just my eagle.”

“You have an eagle?”

“Yes.”

Kazem lifted a bit his sleeve to show a gauntlet, the hidden blade was retracted inside. He whistled at the bird and it came down, then sat on the gauntlet. The claws were magnificent, made to catch preys. Its eyes pierced through theirs, and the best waited quietly for its master’s instructions. Kazem looked through his pockets for a piece of food, and handed it to the bird, that ate it quickly. “Huma. Named after the famous bird in Persian mythology. She is an eastern imperial eagle. This one is a female, and she was quite young, but she listens to me and is very careful.”

Phillip chuckled and turned to Aspasia: “maybe you could learn a thing or two from her, Aspasia, huh…” She elbowed him in the rib but laughed a bit as she teased her. Kazem ignored that comment, and made the bird fly away. The three characters watched it fly toward the horizon, then making a turn to come back. Kazem spoke again: “in regard to what I have told you so far, we have tried to communicate to the Elders…”

Aspasia’s eyes opened a bit wider. He was speaking of the great leaders that were in charge of all of this. The people to whom every Grandmaster in every nation responded to. Phillip was perhaps not aware of that. “And?” she spoke for the first time.

Kazem sent her a deadly glare. If looks could kill… “Suddenly decided to take part in it, huh??” He stood up, a bit too abruptly, and Phillip interposed himself between the two. “Quiet! Quiet!” Phillip told the man, “no need to get agitated!”

“- Fucki- I don’t understand!! Why her??” Kazem tried to move past Phillip and get closer to Aspasia. She was not sure he was going to kill her, but he would not have been gentle with her in any case. She took a step back, in precaution, letting Phillip protect her this time. Phillip held onto him, preventing him from getting too close to her. The two siblings finally realized how much Kazem despised Aspasia. Throughout the conversation, he had ignored her but when she spoke up, he lost all control. As Phillip held him by the arm, his hands slipped, and he gripped onto his sleeves. Kazem’s arms were exposed for a brief second, and Aspasia saw a series of bruises, some more ugly than others. There was an alarm in her head. She suddenly understood who Kazem was truly.

“I know she can be a bitch, but can we get back to the discussion?” Phillip said.

“Did you really have to say that?” She asked Phillip, exasperated.

Kazem tried to jump past Phillip but Phillip immobilized him. Aspasia took another step back as Phillip sent her a look that communicated ‘no more talking.’ He was right. Kazem simply detested hearing her voice, he despised her so much. And oh, she despised him as well. She would do anything that would hurt him.

“I don’t understand why you would- “

Phillip, tired of him, kicked him to the ground and took out a sword, pointing it at Kazem. “I have told you once, and I will not repeat myself: can we get back to the discussion? Or must we end things with a fight?”

There was a look of hatred in Kazem’s eyes. Then he spat angrily: “fine.” Phillip did not drop the sword but let Kazem stand up. Aspasia watched her brother, feeling a bit grateful, that despite their fight a few nights ago and the fact that they did not speak to each other, he was still protecting her. Kazem got up, wiped his clothes from the dust and maintained a distance from Phillip and Aspasia. “Guy will cause us more troubles. Rumour has it he has been gone from the palace for a few days now, and it does not sound good.”

“Have you heard anything about his whereabouts?”

Kazem shrugged. “Nothing. We can only make educated guesses.” Phillip and Aspasia looked at each other; she may have an idea herself. “It is time for me to leave…” Kazem said, “I shall meet you again, in the near future, and I will find you… It was … good to see you, Phillip.”

Phillip and Kazem shook hands and Phillip walked him to his horse. Kazem climbed on it, and made a turn, toward the city. Phillip turned around, toward Aspasia, a severe look on his face. Aspasia smiled at him innocently. “What is it?” she asked him.

Phillip sighed, exasperated. “Nothing.”

“Alright. Then change that stupid look on your face.” When she said that, he playfully pinched her nose and she tried to pull his ear. She giggled and tried to tickle him in the stomach when he gave her a soft push toward her horse. “Wow… You have a low tolerance for me,” she laughed.

“Like most people…” To his remark, Aspasia rolled her eyes and climbed on her horse. Phillip climbed on him, and he approached her. “Why does he hate you? What did you do to Kazem?” he asked her.

She scratched the back of her neck. “I may have fought with him in the past,” she said. This was not a lie, exactly, but Phillip did not need to know the details.

“Obviously… Why did I even bother to ask…? In any case, what are we going to do now? Find Guy? Are we supposed to dispose of him?”

“No, that is not our job,” Aspasia said, “let the Templars realize their own mistake. They will continue their plan, with or without Guy, but they will learn someday that he is only slowing them down. Let us not meddle in this business.”

“Wow, Aspasia, are you truly yourself today? Not poking your nose in what is not your business. How new of you…”

“I am being serious!” she said, laughing despite that. “Kazem only told us what other Templars think… Basically gossip. There is no way for us to find out what the Elders think of this whole situation if they agree with this or not.”

“The Elders are our superiors…” Phillip deduced.

“Exactly.”

“Have we ever met them?”

“No. But they are watching everything we are doing. They have men all over the world, working for them.”

“That sounds…” Phillip searched for the right word, “ominous. Should we be worried?”

“No, we have done nothing wrong.”

Phillip nodded his head, understanding. “Let us go eat. I am already hungry. We can find an inn in Masyaf, no?”

“Yes, let us go.”

As the penetrated the city, Aspasia looked at the place. It was a quiet area, near the mountains. A castle had been built a bit further. There was something interesting about this area, something quite serene, even special. She did not think too much about it, and the two siblings left their horses at the stables while they walked around the city. When they had finally found a place where they could eat, they walked inside and ordered their food. They sat opposite of each other, and the owner of the inn walked to their table with their order. Phillip ate slowly, quietly. Aspasia would have asked him what he was thinking about, but she understood that Phillip was lost in his thoughts, his mind wandering and asking himself questions of the past. “You can talk to me,” she said, “about anything you want. If you have any questions…” For more emphasis, she placed her hand on his. Her skin was hot while his was warm but dry. There were a few lines from the way he held the reins, while riding the horse. Perhaps he was gripping onto it too strongly. Phillip looked down at her hand, but he kept eating. Aspasia analyzed his face. She feared that, despite the fact that they had been teasing each other when Kazem had left, Phillip was going to return to that state, to his bad mood, when they had fought the previous night. Maybe he needed more time and it will pass? He could not stay angry at her for too long, especially if she showed herself in a nice and adorable way. “I am a bit tired of sleeping in a cave… Perhaps we can book a room,” Aspasia suggested. It was a pity attempted to strike a conversation.

Phillip shrugged. “If you think we can afford it…”

“At least for one night, where we can get a full night of sleep. I am tired of having to guard our camp.” She rubbed her eyes, wondering why she felt the need to talk to Phillip. She was supposed to keep a façade with him, for the sake of looking like his sister. The more she looked at him, she could spot a few resemblances and traits that were typical among Greek people. A similar skin tone, although he was a bit more tanned than her, a similar hair texture, eyes that had the same shape, even the same nose… If she could use these details to further convince him that the two are related, Phillip would cling onto her, and she will have him wrapped around her little finger. “Tell me what you think about it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Alright then. We will settle down at night, for a place to sleep.” Then there was just silence between the two.

They finished eating, paid for their purchase, and headed out. They decided to head to the blacksmith to have their weapons polished and cleaned and after that, to travel a bit. They sold whatever items they no longer needed and made a few coins off of their trade, and with that, they took their horses back and left the city. They rode for a few hours, aimlessly, at a slower pace. The hot sun was burning the ground. Syria was just as hot as Jerusalem. Aspasia checked on Phillip to see if he was alright. He had in his waterskin enough water and he did not seem tired. Both their clothes kept them warm, but it covered them from the sun. Around the chest area, the thighs, arms, legs and stomach, they had a plaque that served to protect them from melee attacks. Something pulled her out of her stream of thoughts, Aspasia looked up in the distance and thought she had seen an eagle. When she looked at it more carefully, she noticed another bird, then a third one. The closer they got to it, the more there were. “WHAT IS THAT?” She asked Phillip.

Her brother looked in that direction at which she pointed. They stopped their horses. “Vultures,” Phillip told her. “Why do you think so? This is odd, because if you keep heading in this direction, you are heading toward Jerusalem. Shall we go and see?” he asked Aspasia. She nodded, and the two walked off the path, toward the area where vultures had gathered. They rode through a rough patch of land, where there were rocks and sand, and finally reached what seemed to be a small valley between dunes. A massacre had taken place there against a Muslim caravan, this time bigger than the one Aspasia had found previously. Many men, women, children and animals have been slaughtered. “Shit, shit, shit!” Aspasia cursed. She got off her horse and passed the reigns to her brother.

“What are you doing?” Phillip asked her, confused.

“Looking for survivors. We may still be able to take them to Masyaf and help them.”

“We are so far from Masyaf now! You can’t save them! Aspasia, give it up!”

She decided in the valley and searched through the dead bodies. The vultures flew away as she advanced, but they returned onto the bodies. Aspasia could not find anyone who had survived the attack. All their goods; gold, jewelry, had been taken, perhaps by bandits, because Templars would not have done that, it would have been seen as an insult to the Order and their vow of poverty. The bodies had began decomposing, the Sun’s heat only accelerated the process. Aspasia tried to estimate how long they had been left there, in the open, and could guess it was the previous night or in the early morning. That was enough time for Saladin and King Baldwin to hear of the news. Phillip had left the horses and joined Aspasia. He put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her away from the bodies. “We cannot save anyone, even if we wanted to.”

“The Templars did it.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Phillip, do you know what that means?”

He shook his head. Aspasia continued: “Saladin will declare war, and I don’t think they will be able to negotiate their way out this time.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I was there when the King negotiated with Saladin to stop the war, the first that. In Kerak.”

With a broken heart, she led Phillip back to their horses, and they rode toward the nearest city. Their horses arrived at the gates of the small city they had reached and people inside were already agitated, as the news of an upcoming war had already reached them. Aspasia and Phillip managed to learn that Saladin’s army was already on its way. “Aspasia! ASPASIA! Slow down! Tell me, tell me, will there be anyone to protect these people?”

“They will evacuate the city, but the army will continue on marching! We must hurry!”

←→

After riding on horseback for a few hours, they had finally met a deserted area where one army stood. Men in armours, holding flags and swords and shields set up camp. She saw the Christian army setting up their tents and their medics’ tents. Those were the one that would not be attacked, no matter what. Somewhere, inside their encampment, they would set their items and weapons and Aspasia shared with Phillip her plan to sneak in and gather something in which she could get dressed up.

“What do you plan to do? Fight like the men in the infantry?”

“I plan on staying by the King’s side this whole time. He must be protected at all costs.”

“Ah yes, the one I tried to strangle. I did not know you had a lover, dear sister, I am surprised he loves you, despite this whole … surface of yours.”

“Is that in insult, brother?”

“No, not at all. Just a remark. I am sure if you correct your attitude, you will get more and more people to like you.”

She gave him a playful punch in the forearm and Phillip pretended to be hurt. “I think we should set camp here for the night, far enough for them to not see us.”

“And what will you do?”

“At night, I will sneak in, take a uniform, and join them the next morning, when the fight will start.”

“Be careful of which uniform you pick, otherwise you may end up having to fight far away from the King, alongside your own Order.”

“That is true. And during the fight, you will stay here.”

Phillip grimaced. “Why must I stay here?”

“Because if they catch you, they will imprison you.”

“They will do that to you as well, after you escaped with me,” Phillip reminded her. “Besides, during war, the armies tend to gather even mercenaries and they pay them to fight. You should request a salary.”

Aspasia laughed, thinking it was an attempt to make a joke. Then, night came, the two had set a camp on their own, and tried to start a fire when Phillip told them it would not be a good idea, for the army would be able to spot them like this. With what had on them, they used their cloaks as covers, and they would sleep at night with their backs and feet glued to each other to keep them warm. When the time to sneak into the camp arrived, Phillip told Aspasia he had an idea. He picked up a piece of coal and he held Aspasia’s chin, then started drawing with the coal around the lower half of her face. He drew something above her lips, on her chin, then her cheeks. Phillip began laughing uncontrollably. Aspasia looked at him, wide-eyed, trying to understand what he found so funny. “Talk to me!” she urged him, “my face is making you laugh?”

“The beard suits you well, sister,” and he jumped when Aspasia pinched his nose. He laughed even more. She grabbed her sword, all clean and polished, she could see partially her reflection in it. What she saw was her face with charcoal, almost like a beard. Phillip waited patiently for her reaction and she burst into laughter as well. He had given her a beard that did not match her hair nor her skin tone, but if she was in the dark, perhaps no one would be able to tell. “So much for a disguise… You want to humiliate me… I hope it is easy to wash…” And with that, she quickly got dressed in sober colours. Phillip helped her tie her hair and cover it with a net. When she left their camp to join the army’s, Phillip wished her luck. With that, she walked about two hundred meters before she reached the first tent, and quietly, she avoided groups of men and made her way toward the tent where they kept their materials. Over there, she picked up a few items which she could carry and looked around, careful to not be spotted. As she was about to exit the tent, she heard two familiar voices, and she stopped from her tracks.

“ – my Lord, their own men have set camp and will not come out until the sun comes out.”

“We will be ready by then.”

When she heard the second voice speak, her heart fluttered a bit. She quickly went back into hiding. She attempted to look outside, to see who was speaking, and there stood an older gentleman with another young man, the latter had his back turned, but he wore his favourite colours: white and light blue, with little details in gold. She smiled a bit when she saw him, the King, standing on his two feet, looking healthy. She had gotten tired to see him in bed or on his canopy, in pain or under the effect of a drug. He was so handsome in his military clothes and his beautiful mask. “Perhaps you should reconsider leading the army, my Lord, you would not want to damage your health to the point where you cannot return. You have been lucky, these past battles, to be able to recuperate so quickly.”

“I am afraid I cannot simply let go of my duties, right now. Please, Tiberias, we have already talked about this subject countless times in the past… I must do this, you know that.”

Tiberias sighed, “very well” he said. “In that case, you should at least get some sleep.” The King nodded his head to Tiberias and marched away. Aspasia watched him walk in the distance, where his tent seemed to be. She wanted to go visit him, but she feared things would take a wrong turn. He would be surrounded by guards who would not let her in. He walked at a constant pace, back straight. Was he feeling better? Or was it a façade for his men to see and inspire them to hope?

When the coast was clear, she left with her newly acquired outfit, the uniform of a knight, and a shield. This was her first time taking part in such an expedition, she was not too sure what she was getting herself into. On her way out, a few men spotted her and attempted to strike up a conversation. Noticing they have been drinking, she pushed away and walked past them, pretending to have some duties to attend to. For a brief second, she was glad Phillip had drawn her a beard, otherwise, these men would have commented on her feminine face. She walked away from the camp, laughing quietly to herself, and then began running when she was far enough and joined back Phillip, who had been waiting for her this whole time. That night, she tried on the uniform, the colours did not please her, but she could blend in and fight alongside them.


	42. Lovers' First Kiss

The horns of the armies roared in the distance when the first ray of sunlight poked out of the horizon. Aspasia jumped, awakened by the sound and looked at Phillip in panic. The man had slept next to her that night to keep each other warm. Sensing her agitated, he woke up as well, eyelids heavy. He heard the horns were blowing and realized what was happening. The battle was about to start, the armies were being called to gather into position, and Aspasia was not among them. She did not waste another second. She slept that night in her uniform, so in the morning, all she had to do was arrange her hair, put on the metal net on her head and head to camp on her horse. “When she was ready to leave, she instructed Phillip to wait for her. "You must stay here!” Aspasia reminded him, “do not move, no matter what. I will come back to get you!”

“Aspasia, you can’t be serious, I- “ he protested.

“- Phillip! Not now! Just listen to me when I tell you to stay here!”

“But what if you need help out there? This is dangerous, Aspasia! This is war! You have never been to war, you only fought small battles, this is not the same! Aspasia! Let me join you!”

She completely ignored him. She led the horse away from their small camp and toward the military encampment. The soldiers there were running around, gathering their equipment, mounting their horses and getting into formation. Lucky her, everyone was busy getting ready, picking up their sword and shield and joining their Order, and no one noticed her. She put her helmet on her face to conceal her identity and headed toward the group of knights that had the same uniform as her. She managed to make room for herself and her own horse between two others, a black and a brown one, and all the men awaited for further instructions. From where she was, twenty meters away as another group of knights who wore the colours of the royal family. The King was among them, he was dressed entirely in his military uniform, sword at his hip. Aspasia would have called for him, checked to see if he was in shape to fight and plead him to stay back. She could not move from where she was, or she would be attracting the attention of her superiors.

King Baldwin climbed on his horse with the help of Tiberias. The latter then climbed on his own and joined the monarch. The King of Jerusalem sacrificed so much to support his troops, it must have been painful. The Muslims blew their own horns, preparing for the fight. Among the Christian troops, from afar, the Templars had their own men gathered. They represented perhaps half of the forces. Months ago, when Aspasia had learned from the King that his forces depended on the Templars, he was not exaggerating. Guy was at the head of them, but with no Reynald. The latter was in prison, after Kerak. Aspasia assumed he would have been pardoned for what he had done for the sake of the war, but perhaps the King respected his agreement with Saladin.

She tried to think of a plan to join the King’s personal guards. He personally handpicked his own knights, and among them would fight Tiberias and Balian. The two of them would recognize her instantly if she approached them, despite her disguise. Her horse got agitated a bit, breaking her from her trance, but she managed to calm it down. Around her, people gave her a side glance but nothing more. In the far distance, the dunes were entirely hidden by Saladin’s army, almost equal in size.  _ There is a first for everything,  _ Aspasia thought to herself. She wished for a second that Phillip would have been there. He would have had her back and she would have his. She was convinced she was going to survive, but will King Baldwin? Could she make her way to him and stay by his side?

Another horn blew. She was beginning to feel sick from the stomach. She had not eaten in the morning, and the anxiety was only making matters worse. The commander spoke to another man, the look on his face did not create any reassurance in the men. The Holy Cross, a symbol and a token, was raised high to be seen and to lead the army. The men around Aspasia put their helmets on, sword in their hand. They were ordered to wait for the two leaders to speak. In silence, they watched the King and Saladin approach each other, each on their horse. When the King’s squad marched forward, his own knights followed. Aspasia looked around her. The horses, at war, would be the fastest and the men the strongest, because they would fight from above and they could be protected from attacks. The infantry was the most vulnerable, for they advanced at a slower pace. Aspasia was lucky enough to be at the front; all she had to do now was to leave her spot and find a way to join the King’s men. The armies were several yards apart, and Saladin’s horse, with his own guards, met with King Baldwin’s men in the middle. There was a moment of silence, pregnant of possibilities. In the distance, the two leaders spoke, but it was impossible to read their lips or even facial expressions. Aspasia could hear the men next to her breathe loudly. The inside of her own helmet was humid from the sweat and the warm breath of air that escaped her nostrils. She kept her eyes on the light blue silhouette, her heart beating slightly faster. Last time Saladin had met them, he had taken pity on the young, sick King, but now? Was it possible to step back? Her thoughts wandered to that fight she had with Phillip on the rooftops before he had lost his memories. He had mentioned something about Saladin wanting the jewel. An artifact. Could she get to meet Saladin? His men would surround him at all times. Impossible to isolate the Sultan and interrogate him. But at the same time, Phillip was not there, and this was her chance. If she could reach him...

The King and his men made a turn and faced his army. He raised a hand in the air as a signal and each leader rode back toward their army. A horn roared, signalling that there would be war. Aspasia’s heart tightened in her chest. Under her breath, she muttered a short prayer only for herself to hear and crossed herself. Holding firmly onto her weapon, she prayed her plan would work. Stay near the King. Defend him. Return to Phillip.

Everyone lifted their shield to their chest and got into position. Then they started marching.

The hot armour felt heavier under the hot sun. As they advanced in groups, the many subdivisions of the troops separated, all in formation, to fight back the Saracens from the invasion. Aspasia quickly detached herself from the men from her own group and rode toward the King’s squad. Many voices shouted at her, wondering who the mad knight was to break apart and head to be near the King. Aspasia caught up to them, her horse neighing as she made her way past two familiar figures. “WHAT IN THE WORLD DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?” Balian’s voice resonated, muffled by his helmet. She could hear the anger and confusion in it. Aspasia sent him a look and winked at him – Balian saw her eyes, through the slits of her helmet, and shock could be seen on his face. Tiberias, on the other side, did not seem to understand what was going on.

When the armies met, chaos unleashed in the desert. There was a bloodbath. Clouds of dust and sand rose in the air and screams of effort and agony reverberated through the land. Their blades met their enemy and soon, most beasts that were previously calm were now agitated. Many had dropped their master and took off, away from the fight. Blades clashed, meeting other blades, shield or flesh. Aspasia held tightly to her horse while holding onto her sword and shield. She managed to keep the animal under control while blocking attacks and fending herself. She diverted her attention to the King who seemed more than capable of holding his own. She could not lie - he was very courageous and strong, in the face of the enemy, and defended himself and his knights with valour. He seemed to be experienced in this. Aspasia was experienced at fighting but this was her first time trying to cooperate with others. 

Soon, the stench of blood, sweat and raw flesh filled the air and mixed with the dust, it was almost impossible to breathe. Aspasia removed the helmet and threw it at a Saracen, aiming for his head. She then used her shield to knock him down. Looking around, she realized she was not too sure how to use a shield. She always used a sword to block attacks and even her gauntlets. Surely, the shield could also be used to attacks, right?  In the distance, among Saracens, she found a hooded figure. The man wore all black, and his sabre technique was impeccable. She did not waste another minute. Seeing he was busy fighting two Hospitaller knights, she could use that opportunity to get to him. She ran, moving past the King’s men and made her way there. “ASPASIA! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” shouted at her Balian. Luckily, no one had paid attention to him and she managed to sneak away without being noticed.  Balian tried to run after her, but his duties were with the King. Like that, she managed to get to the Sultan, aiding the knights at fighting him, but the Sultan seemed to exceed her in every aspect. She was going to be able to keep him busy but perhaps not defeat him. His true match would be the King of Jerusalem himself. 

He was a skilled fighter. He was patient, composed and stoic, not letting his emotions get the better of him, unlike Aspasia who used her anger as fuel. His defence was flawless, almost unbreakable. He could use a shield while also holding his sabre and he did not seem to get tired very quickly, unlike Aspasia who was already panting.  Their weapons clashed. The metal made loud sounds as they collided. Aspasia tried to press harder, but the Sultan guarded himself well. “You seem desperate to want to kill me, mercenary,” he told her. He was so calm, despite the fact that Aspasia was showing herself to be aggressive and neurotic. “What do you have against me?”

“How do you know I am not a knight?”

“You lack the moral code that you are supposed to follow. Knights fight fair.”

“You will be surprised to see how many knights do not respect their moral codes imposed on them.”

“Believe me, I have had my fair share of experience with battling knights. I believe the ones you are referring to, one of them is present today and the other imprisoned.”

_ Guy and Reynald. _

Aspasia did not speak about them. “To answer your previous question,” she continued, “I have nothing against you. And I don't fight fairly because I want to win,” she gritted between her teeth. “In fact, I have been wanting to talk to you.”

“You think that by fighting me, you will get them?”

“This is my chance to talk to you, so I had to take it.”

Saladin aimed for her sword and sent it flying away. Aspasia fell on her butt. She quickly got back up and tried to get it back when someone kicked it away. With only a shield in hand now, she would have to improvise a weapon. “There is no talking at war, you simply must fight,” Saladin hissed, and aimed his sabre at her but she blocked his attack. She removed the shield from her hand, his it vertically to strike at his head, then horizontally, across the chest.

Saladin fell but he got back instantly. She tried to hit him again, but he blocked the shield with his sabre and used his own shield to push her back. “You knew a man from Greece, didn’t you? He was supposed to procure you an artifact.” No answer. Left, right, left again, then from above. Aspasia blocked them all. She rolled on the ground, knees scraped by the soil, and she blocked the attack coming from above her head. “Why are you not talking?” she taunted him, “Have I made you angry perhaps?” He kept on fighting her, almost refusing to engage in her game. It was the first time someone had done that to her because she managed to anger almost everyone into getting them to talk.

“I will not speak to a child who is disrespectful,” he mocked her. "And if I were you, I would be careful to remain close to my King - yours seems to be struggling out there."  For a brief moment, Aspasia turned her head to look at King Baldwin and Saladin used that opening to make her lose her balance and strike at her. She did not have the time to dodge that he was about to strike at her from above. A silhouette interposed itself and blocked the attack, the proceeded to fight the Sultan.

"WHAT!! HOW??" she questioned. Phillip kicked Aspasia to the side and proceeded to fight off the Sultan.

"GO!"

"I TOLD YOU TO STAY AT THE CAMP!!"

As Phillip was about to throw a blow at Saladin, Aspasia charged at him. Saladin took that opportunity to run away and join his commanders. Phillip, unable to comprehend why Aspasia. She tackled him, pinned him to the ground, and punched him in the face.

"FUCKING HELL!! ASPASIA!! YOU PSYCHOTIC BITCH I AM HERE TO HELP YOU!!"

"Help me??? HELP ME???? YOU ARE CAUSING ME MORE TROUBLE BY BEING HERE!!" She did not want to imagine the possibility that he regained his memories so quickly after meeting Saladin, who apparently he knew. And she was already supposed to protect the King, she could not do that if Phillip disobeyed her. "WHY DON'T YOU JUST LISTEN TO ME??? YOU WILL FUCK UP EVERYTHING!! EVERYTHING !!" And having said that, she took his hand and twisted it in a weird way. Phillip began screaming in agony. Having broken something, she prevented him from being capable of holding a weapon properly. At this point, he had no choice but to leave the battleground. "GO BACK OR ELSE I WILL KILL YOU!! I WILL KILL YOU RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW!!" she shouted back. She forcefully got Phillip on his horse and slapped the horse for it to leave the battlefield. She knew they would fight again when all of this was over but she could not get herself to care about that at that moment. She would deal with him when the time came. He almost met with Saladin and this would have blown her cover.

Amidst the turmoil, Aspasia managed to make her way back to the King. At that point, she had dropped the armour and remained in the knight uniform, only a shield in her hand. She desperately searched for the King in the crowd of fighters.

A voice seemed to speak to her, and it sent chills down her back. “A woman, huh…” it said in Latin. She found herself standing feet away from the tallest man she had ever met. A Saracen with a strange beard, his hair wrapped inside a turban, big muscles, and two sabres in his hands. “If you are on the battlefield, you must be a worthy opponent,” he continued. 

"I fought your sultan," she snapped.

"Then fight me."

She looked at her shield. Tapping the sword against the shield, she deemed it to be useless to her. She had never learned how to properly use it, only saw other people do, and believed it would only slow her down. It was far better to have free hands, to use her hidden blades. “Alright, bring it, big guy.” 

When he charged at her, she slid on the sand and bent back, the sword missing her by a few centimetres, She quickly rolled on one knee, kicked him behind his knee and attempted to climb on him. He grabbed her by the shoulders and flipped her from the front, her whole body meeting the ground loudly and painfully. She saw his sabre coming at her and did not waste another second to move to the side.

Panting and exhausted, she realized she could not too much as long as he had a sword. Running toward him, she jumped on his leg which was slightly bent, passed one leg over his shoulders and threw the both of them to the floor, his body serving as a cushion of her. In that position, using her thighs to strangle him, she immobilized his hands, removed the sabre, then knocked him unconscious. When he stopped moving, she kicked him in the head one more time to make sure he would not wake up and picked up one of his weapons.

She rain aimlessly, hoping to spot the King with his men but she quickly realized that Balian was fighting off three other knights while Tiberias was at least ten meters away from Balian. The King was nowhere to be seen; he could be anywhere at this point.

“WHERE IS YOUR SQUAD?”

Aspasia did not turn around to face the man who had addressed her. Where only Templars and the King’s knights fought, Aspasia was all alone, with her uniform that did not correspond to them. Her back facing the King. He must have taken this as a double insult, because she was already disobeying orders coming from above, wandering where she should not. She wanted to go meet him, show up the biggest smile on her face and hope he is not angry at her for what she had done when she ran away that night, with Phillip. Was he still going to be mad? Possibly. He had told her he did not want her to become an enemy and she did openly admitted she would not obey if his orders were not convenient to her.

“WATCH OUT!” 

Lost in her thoughts, she did not see the incoming attack. The King ran toward her, pushed her out of the way and took care flawlessly of a Saracens that sought to knock her down. Looking around to see who else was coming at them, he said in a commanding voice: “Stand up.” Aspasia obeyed him. Was he realizing that he was speaking to her? That she was no ordinary knight? She turned her back, partially because she was afraid to meet his face and partially because she had to protect him from incoming attacks. “More are coming,” he said. He handed her back her weapon and both prepared to deal with the new enemy that was coming. Three different men. Aspasia was ready to take care of all of them if it meant the King would come out unscathed. 

She dodged an incoming attack and stepped back, then she lifted up the man who had fallen to use him as a meat shield. His partner stabbed him instead of her and Aspasia threw the body onto the second man, before slicing his throat with the hidden blade. She then moved her body to stand between King Baldwin and the third attacker. She avoided his sword, grabbed his wrist and twisted it. The third Saracen fell to the ground, and Aspasia used his own sabre to stab him.

Before they could realize, many of the Saracens had been defeated. Those who were still alive had managed to flee, along with their sultan, who had left on camelback. Aspasia looked around to see that the Christian army remained, there to pick up their deads and take care of their injured. And like this, the fight had come to an end, much faster than expected. Medics proceeded to scavenge for people who could be saved and drag the bodies to the medics' tents when it was safe for them to come out.

Suddenly, realization hit her. Now that everything had calmed down, the King would want to confront her. Aspasia felt her cheeks turn red. She was not mentally prepared for this. The King was still there, healthy and strong, and she had not prepared herself enough for the moment to see him again. She clenched her fists, unsure of what to do.

“Knight,” the King called her.

_ Fuck. _

She began walking. She searched for her horse, but could not find it and instead took any horse she could find and scared it the same way she scared Phillip's horse, by slapping it into going in the correct direction, toward the camp. After being slapped, the horse headed in the direction it was meant to go and Aspasia began to run as well. She wanted to speak to the King, she could not ride away like that, and yet, she could not talk to him if he was going to be surrounded by his knights and counsellors. 

“WAIT! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”

“Follow me!” 

He stood there in shock, the female voice was unexpected. She removed the net that protected her head to expose her braided hair. The King froze for a second and took a step toward her. She looked over her shoulder to make sure he was going to follow her, and she took off, running.

“WAIT! SLOW DOWN!”

Tiberias and Balian noticed the King running away from the army, chasing after what seemed to be a knight.  “YOUR HIGHNESS!” Tiberias called.

“STAY THERE!” he instructed Tiberias, and like this, he kept running after the knight, walking around the dead bodies that were scattered around. 

Aspasia giggled like a little child as Baldwin chased her. He chased her far away from She stopped for a brief second, beaming, and told the King: “It took you some time to recognize me. Finally…” Throwing a look over her shoulder and seeing him running in her direction, she sped up and led him further and further away from the other men. They were now isolated from the others and could have a moment of privacy. Baldwin kept running, panting and unsure why Aspasia had stopped suddenly. Not far from where they stood, the horse she had sent toward her camp was also standing, in the middle of the desert, alone and waiting for its master to get to him. King Baldwin looked at the animal, then at Aspasia. He stopped running only when he stood a few feet away from her and they looked at each other. She smiled and panted too, like a little girl who had just finished playing a game of tag.

“Aspasia…” he said, out of breath. 

She opened her arms and gestured him to come to her. Baldwin stepped toward her and she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him as if they had not seen each other in a few years. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her back equally hard. She felt her eyes getting teary and tried to cover her mouth so that she would not begin to sob, but Baldwin must have sensed that as he held her more firmly and rubbed her back, in a circular motion. “I am so angry and so happy to see you… It is dangerous for you to be here…”

“Dangerous, it is indeed. I should say the same thing to you, Baldwin… May I call you Baldwin?”

Still holding her, he pulled apart to see her face more clearly and said: “I believe at this point all formalities are of no use.” 

When he said that, Aspasia began to cry a little bit. He would have pulled away completely, there was already enough physical contact between the two. To continue staying in close proximity meant there could transmission to her of his disease. He patted her hair and combed her hair, hoping it would soothe her. She put her arms back around him and brought him close, using the embrace as a pretext to hide her crying face. 

He pleaded her: “Please come back… You can still do that... before it’s too late, free of consequences…”

“I cannot.”

“I will talk to Tiberias and Sibylla, they will change their mind, they will take you back with open arms, they missed you as well…” He pulled away slightly and placed both his hands on the sides of Aspasia’s face. She leaned in, placing her forehead on his, the silver mask was hot under the sun, and so was the rest of their armour. She looked down, wondering if it was a good idea for him to stay out in the desert with a heavy armour that absorbed the heat. “What do you say?” he asked her. His eyes followed her gaze, searching for any hint on her facial expression. Her thoughts wandered off this his wounds, although superficial, that had to be treated, otherwise what had happened in Kerak would happen again here. “Aspasia? Do you hear me?”

She swallowed her saliva with difficulty. “I am sorry, I wasn’t listening,” she admitted, then she pressed her lips to his. As expected, the lips did not kiss her back, but the principle mattered. When he realized what was happening, he relaxed his shoulders and closed his eyes. Chills ran down her spine when her chest made contact with his torso, and he moved a hand around her waist. She placed both her hands on the sides of his face and pulled away for a second to breathe. She used her sleeve wipe away the saliva that had gotten on the lips of the mask and looked at it, analyzing the details.

They stayed like this for a moment, just taking in what had happened. Baldwin took her hand in his and their fingers intertwined. “ _ Shit _ …” Aspasia said, breaking the silence, “I keep putting you in these awkward positions, just like at the party, I am sorry…” 

Baldwin chuckled. He took her hand in his and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. Aspasia laughed, a bit nervous, and with her other hand on his mask, with her thumb she traced the details on his mask. This one was the one he wore at war, with the flowery details. The one with facial features was meant for his day-to-day life. It was also her favourite. In reality, she loved them both, but this one made him look younger, with fuller cheeks and fuller lips, while the other one gave him a more mature and masculine look, with the thin eyebrows and the mustache.

“Aspasia.”

“What?”

“Speak to me.”

“I …” she hesitated, “am at a loss for words. I am very happy to see you again and I meant what I told you that night, at Sibylla’s party and when I left the palace…” 

He sighed with a hint of happiness amidst his sorrow. Was he not happy with her answer? Did he wish to speak of another topic? 

“I have missed you, while I was away. I never thought I would feel this way about someone, before.”

“I can tell you that I feel the same. You own my heart,” he spoke into her ear, “and that time we spent not speaking has given me the opportunity to sort out my own feelings and clear my head. When you left, with Phillip, that night, what I told you… despite being under the effect of drugs… I meant it. I am sorry, Aspasia, I must have not been clear … or perhaps I was too hasty and uncertain to confess my feelings for you. I was a bit inelegant in my delivery… but I meant to tell you that it was lonely at the palace… without you.”

This time, she began sobbing and could not be stopped. She thought she had reached the peak, the highest point she could be at, and have a taste of what true happiness was. She covered her face with her hands. Baldwin pulled her into an embrace once again and placed his lips on her temple. “I missed you,” she said, a big smile on her face.

Facing the other way to make sure she would not get his disease, he rested his head on her shoulder and held her firmly. She laughed and reciprocated. “Does that mean you will come back?” he attempted to ask.

She shook her head and rested her forehead on his shoulder. She sensed his surprise and his sadness, and then proceeded to explain: “I must go and take care of my problems, otherwise my past will catch up onto me and I will not be able to move forward.”

“Let me help you deal with your enemies; you don’t have to do this alone.”

“No, you must stay at the palace, take care of your health and your family. You told me you had a dream, didn’t you, of building a better city where everyone can cohabit. Stay here and build that dream. I, unfortunately, cannot take part of it.”

“What? You are going to give up? Aspasia, you are out of your mind! Let me help you, you don’t have to deal with Phillip alone!” Sensing she was about to cry, he squeezed her hands harder and rubbed her back and shoulders more vigorously. “Please, don’t cry, not now, I don’t know how to deal with it,” he tried to laugh. She would have pulled away but saw that he was not ready. She then placed his head in the crook of her shoulders for him to be more comfortable and rested her temples against the side of his neck. “Please, don’t cry,” he repeated, and made her face him. Tears glistened in the corner of her eyes. She put her forehead on his. “Don’t cry, please, I hate it when you cry,” he insisted.

“You know very well I cannot subject you to my problems. Phillip is for me to deal with. If I deal with it the conventional way, it will only make matters worse for you. I have no right to put a stop to your plans and I absolutely believe you should not have to live in fear because an intruder may come at any moment to take our life.”

He hid his face back in the space between her neck and her shoulders and they rocked back and forth. “I fear you will do something irrational from which I cannot help you after.”

“Hahaha…” she laughed, “perhaps.”

“Why must you be so stubborn and not follow me back to Jerusalem? Tell me why, Aspasia! I can protect you! Just give me a chance to prove to you that. You don’t have to deal with your enemies on your own.”

She kissed the tip of his nose and his forehead. Considering the fact that he was slightly taller than her, she had to get on the tip of her toes. He sighed and Aspasia would have done anything to change his state of mind. “You are adorable when you are grumpy,” she smiled. “I’ll tell you what: let me take care of this - let me take care of Phillip and everything else - and when that is over, I will be back, and we can be happy, together.”

“I fear … we may run out of time, if we proceed like that.”

She felt her heart shatter. For a moment, she looked into his eyes. “I will be quick,” she promised. “And I will see you again, I promise I will be back. Perhaps I will pay you a visit when no one is around.” Baldwin nodded his head and pulled away. They held hands for as long as possible and when came the time to let go of that as well, it was almost painful. Aspasia took a step back and told him: “go, my King. Your army is waiting for you. They are victorious because of you.”

Baldwin nodded his head and took a few steps back as well. Aspasia gathered her items, placed Phillip on the back of the horse and mounted it. Baldwin sent her one last look and she waved her hand at him and left off in the opposite direction. Once he was too far in the distance to be seen, Aspasia felt as if she was already missing him. She was going to have to visit him very soon, sooner than Baldwin expected.

  
  



	43. Lovers' Secret Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must apologize for the late update. I was kept occupied by school-related work and I managed to finally squeeze in some time to write. This chapter is somewhat short but I like it a lot. Good, glad this one is out of the way, we can proceed with the story! Enjoy!

Late in the night, Aspasia crossed the walls that circled the palace. Remaining in the shadow, from there she jumping in the court. Making sure she was not spotted by anyone, she looked behind her. No guards noticed her, so she climbed up a column to reach the second floor. When she arrived there, she remained on the balcony, back against the wall. Making sure the guards who patrolled that corridor had their backs turned at her, and she moved onto the other side of the balcony, climbing another column and making her way further up.

  
  


She finally reached the King’s quarters, a place she had grown to miss in the past days. Upon setting foot in the corridor, right in front of the main doors that happened to be open, she heard noises coming from inside. Voices speaking in Arabic, two of them communicating with each other. She guessed it was perhaps the physicians discussing the King’s condition. Sensing that someone was approaching, she quickly hid behind a pillar and waited. A physician walked out of the apartments, medical tray in his hands, and walked away, not spotting her. Aspasia looked carefully toward the apartments. The doors had been closed, and she could not get in without being spotted.

  
  


She decided to try to get in through the balcony. To do that, she had to get outside, climb the walls again and make her way around the building. She passed one leg over the edge of the corridor, a soft breeze blowing against her hood, and she managed to grab onto a piece of wood that was part of the structure. And like this, slowly and steadily, she made her way to the balcony that gave to a beautiful view outside of the city. She could hear from where she was a man speaking in a quiet and soft voice. She managed to get onto the balcony without making too much noise and looked inside. From where she was, she could see the living room. There, on the long-chair, sat Baldwin, his hand resting on a table and a physician, who had his back turned to the balcony, was covering it after having applied some ointments. 

She was not too sure if Baldwin was asleep or not.  The King seemed to have woken up for a brief second - he moved his head and opened his eyes a bit. As if he had spotted her, his gaze brightened and he seemed more awake, and suddenly aware of what was happening. Aspasia brought a finger to her lips, telling him to keep quiet, and smiled, before hiding once again. Baldwin looked at his physician, who noticed that he had woken up from his sleep, and the man looked behind his shoulder but saw nothing on the balcony. He continued to apply to bandages and when he was done, he picked up his items and wished the King a pleasant evening. Aspasia did not come out until she heard the door close behind him.

  
  


“He is gone. You may come,” Baldwin called for her, in a whisper. And so Aspasia did. She took off her hood, her cloak and hurried to meet Baldwin. She could not stop herself from giggling. Baldwin opened his arms and welcomed her with an embrace, his head resting on her stomach and breathing calmly. She kissed the top of his head and then made a spot for herself on his long-chair. “I have missed you,” he told her.

  
  


“We have not seen each other for a few hours,” she laughed, putting her forehead on his, “but I would be lying if I said otherwise, too.” She placed a kiss on his cold lips, her hands holding his head softly. At that moment, she wished she could have seen the real person. It was more painful than she thought to not be able to touch him.    
  


Baldwin tried to break apart but Aspasia would not let go and this made him laugh. “You are adorable,” he could speak well behind the mask. Her lips still on his, she laughed herself and rested her head at the base of his neck, on his shoulder. “I have missed you,” Baldwin said again.

  
  


“You already said that,” she made the remark, a big smile on her face.

  
  


“Because I did. So much. I know it has been a day, but my heart was aching at the thought of seeing you in days, weeks.” He took both her hands in his and placed a kiss on the top of them. Aspasia giggled like a little girl. She wanted someone to smack her in the face - all of it felt surreal. 

  
  
“How have you been feeling?” Aspasia asked him, trying to hide the fact that she was giddy with delight. She recalled having seen him the night before the battle, seemingly healthy and strong, but the reality of things was not that simple. Baldwin did not speak but his fingers wrapped themselves around her hand. She looked down at them. Did he wish to not speak about it? “I wish I could take some of your pain away." she confessed, "If it would make your life easier.”

  
  


“No… Even if I could do that, I would not subject you to this curse.”

  
  


“I am strong enough to handle it. I would do that for you if it means easing your pain.”

  
  


He quickly shut her up by giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Please, let us not dwell on this any further. The war is won. The Sultan had escaped. We should be celebrating, not talking about impossible scenarios.”

  
  


"You are right." Aspasia tried to smile. She could not help but think she had turned the mood sour. Baldwin stood up and led her to the chess table. She looked at him, searching for signs and indications that his health was worsening. Why else would he not answer her question? Aspasia sat down on her habitual chair while Baldwin in his, and she noticed that the chess pieces have not been moved. Someone who had come to wipe away the dust had been careful not to disturb the game. She looked at him, finding the fact that he had waited for her for a long time to finish the game was very sweet, and she smiled. 

  
  


“Tell me what you are thinking,” he coaxed her.

  
  


“I am thinking about how playing chess constitutes for you a form of celebration,” she smiled.

  
  


He laughed a bit at her joke but began coughing. When he managed to clear his throat, he put a hand on his chest and sat up straight. “I am alright,” he reassured her, noticing that she was worried a bit. She stood up from her seat and walked behind him. Baldwin quickly tried to reassure her that everything was alright but began coughing even more. Aspasia put an arm around him and with her other hand, she rubbed his back. Baldwin soon stopped coughing and nodded his head, thanking Aspasia for having tried to soothe him. 

  
  


“You should be careful, Aspasia… Staying so close to me, you might catch the disease…”

  
  


She shook her head and rested her chin on the top of his head. “I will be alright,” she reassured him. Deep inside, she worried that his health was worsening. Perhaps at the moment, he was only putting on a facade, pretending to not suffer only to reassure her. The war must have taken a toll on him.

  
  


“Please, it is your turn to make a move,” he indicated at the chessboard.

  
  


Aspasia looked at his hand as he pointed at the game. “You remember it being my turn?”

  
  


“Yes, I do. I have moved a piece and we were interrupted.”

  
  


“You must have a great memory.” And so Aspasia regained her seat and analyzed the chessboard before making a move. Baldwin would comment ‘interesting’ and take his time, before moving a piece of his own. Aspasia giggled nervously, knowing she could not beat him at this game. She moved another piece and looked at him, a small smile creeping in. She began wondering what he looked like, underneath that mask, and how he would have looked like if he had not been affected by the disease. He must have been very handsome, she thought to herself. After all his sister was a beauty and his nephew was the most beautiful boy Aspasia had seen. It seemed to run in the family. She wondered if he would have still developed feelings for her if he was not sick. He would have been able to have any woman he wanted, so would he still pick her? After all, she was a handful, always causing trouble to herself and to others. She was pretty for sure but not the type of woman who would turn heads in her direction at a party. Would he be allowed to love a commoner? Could anyone openly tell him that he is not allowed to have a romantic liaison with a woman, due to his disease or due to their different social statuses? If Baldwin had not said anything about it, then perhaps there was nothing to worry about. What if someone pointed out that they were breaking a rule? Baldwin was the king and could easily work around the rules that were put in place. Besides, it was known that he could not marry and produce an heir because of his disease, so there was no expectation of any commoner taking advantage of him. Would that still mean that Aspasia would be allowed to stay with him? They could not deny him the happiness he craved, could they?

  
  


“Your turn.”

  
  


She had not paid attention to his move. Dumbfounded, she starred at the board, trying to guess what was the last move he made and made one of her own, not thinking too much about it. She looked up at him, trying to guess what he was thinking about. There was a slight change in his stare and he looked quizzically at Aspasia. 

  
  


“Are you sure you want to make this move?”

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“Look.” And he showed her how she had opened the path for his bishop to take her king. She scratched her chin, sighting.

  
  


“Alright, let me try something else…” She moved another piece but the expression on Baldwin’s face has not changed. She assumed the choice she had made was just as bad as the previous one. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  
  


“You… could move your king here… Or you could take my bishop with this pawn…”

  
  


“Are you allowing me to re-make a move? I don’t think this is the correct way of playing chess, my Lord,” Aspasia teased.

  
  


Baldwin chuckled. “My lord, huh… Well, only this time, I will allow you that.” Aspasia moved her pawn where Baldwin instructed her to and realized she could eliminate his queen. “See?” Baldwin asked her, glad to have made his point clear.

  
  


The game continued for a bit more and Aspasia would occasionally glance toward the door. The castle was quiet, but could any physician suddenly burst in and spot her? Baldwin must have noticed that, that he attempted to reassure her that no one would come and disturb them. 

  
  


“I hope you are right,” Aspasia said. “I should tell you, I don’t want to keep you up late into the night. I know you may have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow.”

  
  


“You wish to leave?”

  
  


Aspasia laughed. “It is not a  _ wish _ … I would love nothing more than to stay here and play chess with you but I don’t want to deprive you of sleep.”

  
  


“I will be alright, Aspasia,” Baldwin reassured her, “please stay longer… I have not seen you in a long time and I don’t know when I will see you again…”

  
  


“Come, Baldwin. If you are not going to sleep, you should at least rest your eyes and your body,” she coaxed him. Feeling guilty, Aspasia took his hand and led him to his bedroom, leaving the chess game for them to continue on another occasion. There, she instructed him to climb in his bed and she would climb next to him but saw that he was hesitating. “What is it?”

  
  


“I… would feel better if we were careful about physical contact. We have already held each other enough and I fear of transmitting you my disease.”

  
  


“Baldwin… You will not transmit to me your disease.”

  
  


“How can you be so sure?”

  
  


“I just know it,” she replied simply.  It did not make a lot of sense and it did not have to. But seeing that her love was consumed by this worry, she decided to pick a linen sheet and use it to wrap him in it. Leprosy was transmitted through physical touch, she had been told, and so if there was a linen sheet between them, she could hold him without any worry.  “Is it comfortable?” she asked him.

  
  


Baldwin had removed his cloak but kept on his outside clothes and his mask. He nodded his head and relaxed as Aspasia put an arm around him. “How long will you stay here?”

  
  


“I don’t know… Perhaps I will leave right after you fall asleep… Or maybe right before dawn…”

  
  


His hand, placed on her wrist, tightened. Aspasia raised her head a bit, but from where she was, laying behind him, she could not see his eyes.  “Please, spend the night here.”

  
  


“Baldwin, I cannot, you know that.”

  
  


“I don’t know when I will see you again,” he argued. He turned slightly around to be able to face her. “I will make sure you will not get in trouble, if that is what you worry about.”

  
  


She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “I will be back. Soon.”

  
  


“How can I be so sure?”

  
  


“Because today, on the battlefield, I told you I would be visiting you soon and I came to see you the very same night.”  He dropped his shoulders and relaxed in her arms. Aspasia could tell he agreed with her but was still displeased at the fact that she planned to leave soon. She placed her ear on his back and felt him breathe in and out.  “Are you comfortable? With my arm like that?” she asked him.

  
  


“Yes. What about you?”

  
  


“The most comfortable I have ever been in a long time.”  She felt him squeeze her hand, giving a lovely pump and she then kissed the back of his neck. How could he be comfortable? With all these bandages, layers of clothes and mask? She wanted to ask him about seeing his face - surely, as his lover, she was curious to know what he truly looked like. There was no way she could be repulsed by the sight. 

  
  


Some time has passed. None of them have spoken to each other. Sensing he could not fall asleep, Aspasia joked: “are you still awake on purpose? So that I don’t leave you just yet?”

  
  


Baldwin laughed, and then he turned around completely. He took Aspasia’s hands in his and held them close to his chest. “Do you think we are making a mistake?”

  
  


“I-I… huh? A mistake?”

  
  


“Please, don’t take offence in that,” he begged, “I apologized for having confused you with my feelings and intention, at the party…”

  
  


“... Baldwin…” Aspasia sighed, “I have already told you that this belongs to the past. There is no need for you to apologize any further.”

  
  


“I fear that if I accept a relationship, I risk only bring you suffering and shame. God forbid you catch it too and must live the life of a leper. I was lucky because my father insisted that I could still continue living as normally as possible, and people have no choice but to accept me as I am, but you? Will they do the same? Can you afford to be sick?”

  
  


He was not asking her for an honest answer. Aspasia looked down in shame. Could she convince him that she would be careful? Or was this going to end in rejection? Suddenly, Baldwin brought his hands to his face and looked down also. Aspasia frowned, not understanding why he felt the need to hide suddenly. “Are you crying?” She moved in the bed, sitting up and wrapping him with the linen sheet before holding him in her arms. She did not know how to console him. If he had not been wearing a mask, she would have wiped away each tear, but she could not do that now. 

  
  


“Please, don’t cry now.” It felt as if someone had pinched her heart. Baldwin has suffered all his life and seeing him like this made her heart ache. “Tell me what I must do to make you stop.”

  
  


Baldwin shook his head and removed his hands. His eyes were slightly red and watery but he seemed to have stopped crying. He tried to reassure her by squeezing her hand a bit and placing a kiss on her lips, and then turning his back to her once again to regain the position they were originally in. Aspasia arranged the sheet around him and put an arm over him. 

  
  


“Speak to me,” Aspasia pleaded him. “Must I, maybe, harm someone to lift your spirits?”

  
  


Baldwin chuckled. Aspasia smiled, happy to see he was receptive to her humour. 

  
  


“I should perhaps try to sleep.”

  
  


“Of course.” No wonder he was emotional - he had just survived a battle and he was tired. “Would you like to remove your mask? To be more comfortable.”

  
  


“No. Not while you are here.”

  
  


“If you still have it on when morning comes, your servants will wonder what happened.”

  
  


“I will be mindful to remove it right before they come in.”

  
  


Aspasia laid her head on the pillow. It was the nicest bed she ever laid in, and having Baldwin by her side only made her happier. She smiled to herself, proud of having found a man of such good quality. How lucky was she, to be able to hold him in her arms? No one would understand that sentiment.   
  


“Do you remember about that dream I shared with you?” he broke the silence.

  
  


“Of course,” she responded.

  
  


“We may be one step closer to it, now that I have defeated Saladin.”

“Will he come for more blood?” Aspasia asked.

  
  


He nodded his head. “For sure. But now the Muslim world will see that we are not a force to be reckoned with.”

  
  


“You were beautiful, on the battlefield.”   
  


There was another moment of silence. She let that comment sink in. How often was he told by someone he was beautiful? And did it matter, if it came from someone who has never seen his face? 

  
  


“And do you remember that letter I had sent, months ago, to the kingdom of France?”

  
  


“The one you asked me to send for delivery?”

  
  


“Precisely.” Another moment of silence. He sucked in a sharp breath, and then shifted a bit in his position. “I have yet to receive a reply.”

  
  


Aspasia stopped breathing for a second. She remembered how long ago it was when Baldwin had written the letter. The routes to Europe were busy every day, with soldiers and pilgrims travelling to the Holy Land. Was there a chance they may have been intercepted or slowed down by terrible weather? Doubtedly.  “We… will work a solution out,” she told him, “I may not have any power in this matter, but I am here to support you in this.”

  
  


“Thank you, Aspasia.”

  
  


Every time that one problem seemed to be resolved, another arose. Aspasia vowed to protect their family, a long time ago, for she herself has lost her own. If she could remove all his pain and endure it herself, she would have done it.  What seemed like hours have passed. Baldwin had fallen asleep in her arms, and Aspasia managed to close her eyes briefly. She had grown hot, wrapped up in the bedsheets and wearing her thick clothes, she knew Baldwin must have felt worse with his mask, in addition to the rest. There were moments when she was awake and others when she was in a state of semi-sleep, her face against his back.

  
  


When she realized that he was in a deep sleep, she softly removed her arm from underneath his body and slid out of the bed. She put on back her cloak, then her hood and headed for the balcony. Looking one last time behind her, she saw him sleeping profoundly. She was already missing him and wanted to remain by his side until the morning but she could not risk getting caught.  Just like last time, when she sneaked out of the palace with Phillip, she took the same path, across the courtyard, then over the fence, and finally regained her horse. In the middle of the night, she was the only traveller on the roads. She had left quickly Jerusalem, walked across the cold desert and made it, in a matter of hours, to Muslim lands. From there, she found her way back to the camp she and Phillip had set. 

  
  


A strange feeling took over her. What was she going to do once that she found Phillip? Would they fight? Argue? Was she safe, with him? She could defend herself but Phillip had always been above her. From afar, she could see a small campfire and his horse. Phillip was perhaps asleep, after having waited for her for so long. She had pushed that moment as far as she could, to the point of not joining him after the battle but rather wasting time around the city until evening came so that she could see Baldwin.

  
  


She led the horse as quietly as she could to the camp. When she arrived, the sun was poking out in the sky, in the distance.. She walked around Phillip, who had fallen asleep by the fire. She dared not wake him up but she felt his breathing - it sounded normal. He was not asleep. If he was, it would have been very slow and heavy. His arm was bandaged and wrapped up in a piece of cloth. Perhaps he had gone to a hospital to get treated. He must have been angry at his sister for having broken his arm. Aspasia couldn't care less. He was about to ruin their plan.

  
  


She got inside the covers which served as her bed and laid inside quietly. The two siblings have not spoken one word to each other.


	44. The Past and the Present

The next day, Aspasia learned that Phillip was going to give her the silent treatment. From morning and throughout the day, each was doing their own activities, only eating meals together. It was not as if she had tried to strike a conversation either. If they were on speaking terms, maybe she would have expressed her anger at him almost blowing their cover. He had almost exposed them to Saladin, and perhaps now the Sultan would be on guard, knowing that two mercenaries may come to him to interrogate him.

In the following weeks, Aspasia spent her time between Syria and Jerusalem, visiting Baldwin as often as possible. Most of their meetings took place at night or when she could find him alone. He would either meet with her in his apartments or in the palace’s library, which was most of the time empty. They almost got caught a couple of times, but Aspasia managed to hide and let Baldwin deal with the guards or the servants. When they were gone, and only the two of them remained, they giggled like little children and ventured in the castle, as if nothing had happened.

That night, Aspasia took the King back to his apartments and offered to stay a bit more with him before she left for her camp. “I don’t think the servants believed me when I had told them I was searching for a manuscript,” Baldwin laughed, “but does that matter?”

“You are their king,” Aspasia said, and kissing his cheek, “they will not investigate the truth.”

It was incredibly late. Baldwin seemed happy and full of life whenever Aspasia was here. She had never asked him if their secret meetings had a toll on him. As long as it would not affect his duties, Aspasia had no problem travelling from so far to meet with him.

“I suppose this is the time you tell me I should go to bed,” Baldwin noted, in a more serious tone, as she led him to his bedroom.

“You sound like you hate that.”

“I feel like a little boy…” he sat down on a long chair and Aspasia sat next to him, “I am a man… Old enough to decide if I need sleep or if I can stay awake. Besides, it’s not every day that I have your company. I wish I could offer you to have dinner with me.”

“Dinner with the King… Sounds like a dream any woman would have.”

Baldwin chuckled. “I fear that it is less pleasant than you would imagine. I would rather not get into the details.” And so, Aspasia did not ask. She gave him a sympathetic smile, only capable of imagining what it was like. It would imply him showing her his face. She was left to wonder what type of food he would be eating, and if that involved taking medication in the process.

“If that reassures you,” Aspasia trailed off, “I would not be able to accept too much food or alcohol, because I must head back to my camp on my own.”

He laughed a bit. The thought of her going back, drunk, created amusing images in his head. “Alright, I understand,” he said, a hand placed on his chest. “You are welcomed to stay at the palace if you wish…”

It was yet another one of his attempts to convince her to remain. On every occasion that Aspasia visited, he never failed to remind her that she was always welcomed back. He would always state that he was not sure Phillip could keep her safe, but in reality, Aspasia knew that he was worried that she would one day anger Phillip so much that he would lash out onto her. The argument that Phillip could never hurt his own sister did not make an effect on Baldwin.

“I know,” she answered him, “and I hope that the time will come for me to come back here one day.”

That was partially a lie. She knew very well she would not get back. By taking the side of Phillip and sneaking him out of the palace, she had made herself an enemy to the others. If Phillip were to commit murder, she would be held accountable for her ‘brother’s actions.

“You know…” Baldwin said, “my nephew misses you very much.”

“I miss him too,” Aspasia admitted, a sad look on her face.

Baldwin placed his hand on her lap and Aspasia caressed it. Could she pay him a visit if she had disappeared from the palace? Baldwin was the only one who knew of their secret – of their meetings.

“He asks his mother to tell him stories but she’s not as good as you are, nor does she have the imagination to come up with them.”

Aspasia burst into laughter. Baldwin immediately prompted her to keep quiet and both looked in the direction of the door. No one had heard them. She turned back to face him and smiled. Taking his face between her hands, she placed a kiss on his lips and said: “You have a busy day ahead of you, my King, and I would hate to be the one to keep you from getting any sleep. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Just like the previous nights, she lied next to him for a bit, waiting for him to fall asleep so that she could leave quietly. “What if I come to take you out on one night?” Aspasia whispered, “when you don’t have anything to do the following day.”

“Where would you like to go?” Baldwin asked her.

“Wherever,” she replied simply, “it does not matter to me. We can decide when we get there.”

“Yes…” Baldwin said sleepily, “I would love that.”

Not long after their conversation, Baldwin fell asleep and Aspasia took that opportunity to leave the palace. As done previously, she climbed on her horse and headed back to camp, where Phillip was supposed to wait for her. That night, she came in a bit late and found him asleep, but he had cooked some food and left a bit for her. After having eaten and drank, she went to sleep, dreamily looking at the stars, totally in love.

She had slept until a very late hour the next day and killed some time through the city of Jerusalem, going unnoticed. She avoided guards, assuming that they may be looking for her, due to her relationship with Phillip, and would hide on rooftops. It was the easiest way to travel in the city. When the evening came, and she knew that Baldwin would have eaten and received the visit of his physicians. She sneaked inside the same way she always did, through the balcony, and waited for the physicians to leave.

Once inside his apartments, she happily met him, and asked: “are you ready for tonight?”

“How do you plan on doing that? Guards are everywhere.”

Aspasia looked at the balcony. Could she get him through there? He was not as agile as her and she feared he could get hurt. “We… will have to find another exit.”

She pushed him to get dressed in clothes that would not catch any attention to him, leaving his cloak behind. Her own disguise, dark brown clothes, would allow her to navigate through the crowds unnoticed. She took his hand and led them out. Closing the doors behind them, they remained near the walls and behind pillars in case, they needed to hide. Slowly but steadily, they reached the gates. Guards in the royal uniform kept watch. Aspasia instructed Baldwin to wait for her to distract them before he could make an exit. She sneaked her way into the stables, not far from there. Many of the horses have fallen asleep, standing up. Aspasia slapped one of them, provoking it to neigh. Guards headed in her direction and she quickly made her way out. Looking at the spot where Baldwin was standing before, she noticed he was no longer there and assumed he made his exit. She followed him, and the couple met on a perpendicular alley, smiling and giggling to each other.

“It is like we are doing something naughty,” Aspasia laughed.

“Only a little bit.”

“Let’s go.”

He took her hand in his and Aspasia led them through the streets of Jerusalem. Many shops were still open. People met to eat out and drink on that hot summer night. Luckily, no one paid attention to them. Aspasia walked with Baldwin, hand-in-hand, a strange thought in her mind, that this was what normal life should look like. No fighting, no swords, no assassination. She would have wanted a life of peacefulness and calm, where she could share sweet moments like that with the man she loved. Could she ever have that? She would always have enemies coming for her, and Baldwin had his own. The thought that this might be the first and last time the two of them could walk the streets of the city, holding hands, broke her heart a bit.

“What are you thinking about?” Baldwin asked her. She felt him squeeze her hand a bit as if to wake her up from her trance.

“About how happy our little escape makes me.”

It was not a lie, nor was it the truth. The two avoided the crowds and finally made their way to the gates of the city. Aspasia had left her horse at a stable there, and she looked at Baldwin. “Are you feeling up to ride a horse with me?”

“Where are you planning to take us?”

“I was thinking of the beach,” Aspasia said. Noticing Baldwin hesitating, she asked him: “have you ever been to the sea?”

“I… Yes, but a long long time ago.”

“I am curious for you to tell me this story, then.” She winked. “But only when we arrive.”

She climbed first, and then Baldwin climbed after her on her horse, hands wrapped around her stomach. She guided the horse out of the city and led them on the paved road. That path was always taken by travellers at all times of day and night, and so Aspasia and Baldwin were never truly alone. She had become somewhat familiar with the landscape and the maps and easily led them toward the coast. From time to time, they would take a small break where she would feed the horse and allow it to drink water from a well, and Baldwin would get to rest, but his excitement and happiness made him forget discomfort and pain.

When they were ready to continue, Aspasia would climb on the horse, Baldwin following her, and continued their journey. Maybe two hours later, they could smell the salt in the air and hear waves crashing. Leading the horse off the path, they approached the sea. Tidying the horse to the bark of a dead palm tree, the couple made their way onto the sandy beach.

“Take off your shoes,” Aspasia encouraged Baldwin, “do you want to feel the water?”

He seemed to hesitate. “I don’t think I should do that.”

Was he afraid she would be disgusted? She thought to herself that nothing about him could disgust her. He was, in her eyes, the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and no matter what the disease has done to him, she could handle it.

“If it reassures you, it is so dark that I cannot see anything.”

It was true. The only thing that she could see was the moon in the sky as it partially lit the scenery. She could vaguely discern the features of Baldwin’s mask, but otherwise, everything remained a mystery.

Baldwin approached the water as the waves got closer. He ended up removing his shoes and folding the hem of his pants so that the water could not touch them. Aspasia did the same. The waves were going back and forth, and when they came forth, Aspasia hissed, and her toes curled, the water was cooler at night than she anticipated, but she did not mind it. Baldwin did not have that reflex, however.

“Is it cold?” he asked her, after hearing her hiss.

“Yes, but it is bearable.”

They looked into the distance. The sea looked very calm. During the day, they would hear seagulls but at night, all animals were asleep.

“I have stopped feeling many things due to my leprosy. From my hands to feet … At least you can say that I do have this advantage, in comparison to other diseases to exist.”

He looked at his hands and moved his feet, making a splash with his feet in the water.

“You owe me a story about the beach,” Aspasia reminded him.

“Mmh? Oh yes, the story… About the first time, I saw the sea. It was with my father. His name was Almaric and he had brought me with him when we travelled to Jaffa to welcome the Patriarch at that time. I saw the sea there, but I have never gotten this close to it. As to actually put my feet in the water.”

“How old were you at the time?”

“I must have been around the age of 4 or 5.”

Aspasia nodded her head. Was this a lost opportunity for him? Did he have leprosy back then? Perhaps he did but showed no symptoms.

“Tell me about your past, Aspasia.”

“Me? My past?”

“Yes. Your name is Aspasia, no?” Baldwin laughed a bit.

She rubbed the back of her neck, not too sure of how to start. “Ask me something more specific,” she said, “what are you curious about, exactly?”

“Tell me about your childhood. Was little Aspasia just as much as a handful as the Aspasia standing next to me?” He laughed again, and she joined in.

“That, I can assure you I was,” she confirmed, a bit smile on her face, “and worse. If you want me to tell you the story, we might as well start a fire a bit further away from the water and keep ourselves warm.”

The two of them stepped out of the water. They cleaned their feet from the sand and put on their shoes. Aspasia walked to the tree where her horse was tied and picked up a few branches. The dry wood was still somewhat humid, from the humid air of the sea, but it could start a fire. Once the fire was made, she brought, from her bag, a cover and wrapped it around his shoulder while she used her own cloak to cover her own.

“Are you comfortable like this?” Aspasia asked, then proceeded to do with the sand a form of a seat so that he could lay a bit.

“I am feeling well, please don’t worry too much about me. Tell me about your history, Aspasia.”

“Alright. You’re the first one to who I tell this.”

“What an honour.”

She laughed a bit, and then proceeded: “I lived with my mother in a village in Macedonia. It was near the border with Greece, so we had many Macedonians and Macedonian Greeks living there. My childhood there was fine. It was quite fun, because I had made many friends there and I was happy to help my mother, in the house and at her work. She bought, when I was still a baby, a small structure in the center of the village and converted it into a textile shop, where she would trade with travellers and Crusaders for textiles and money, and she would repair clothes for people. It was only the two of us, my father was out of the picture, and I never thought about asking questions about him. I lived like this until her death when I was around the age of seven.

I was told they had found her body, mutilated and bloody, on the side of the road. There were signs that an accident had taken place that involved a cart. My father came to pick me up and take me with him. I learned that he had been visiting us once in a while during that time, but I never recognized him. I learned that he was a Templar knight – the Grandmaster of the Macedonian Rite, in fact – and he was not supposed to welcome me there, but I had nowhere else to go. I ended up spending a few months there, not doing anything, being unproductive, and depressed about my mother’s sudden death. He did not want to talk about it either, but I think he was just as depressed as I was.”

“I am so sorry to hear that,” Baldwin said, “I too lost my father at a young age.”

As he placed his hand in hers, she laughed a bit and gave it a squeeze. “There is no need to be sad for me,” Aspasia laughed a bit, sensing how he was getting emotional for her, “things changed slowly from that point. My dad could not keep me there while I did nothing and so he made me begin my training as a Templar, at the age of nine. I was the youngest trainee there, and I was put in charge of an older trainee. He was six or seven years my senior, and he really did not like me, and I did not like him either. Most of the training at the beginning involved me getting beaten and kept down, and none of the other boys intervened, so at some point, I had to learn to fight back. It took me a while to learn how to block and dodge incoming attacks, but I was really proud of the fact that I stood my ground.”

“Did your father ever intervene to help you?”

“No. My father was not responsible for the young trainee. He was working with the knights; he could not care less what a sixteen-year-old boy was doing to me. It did not matter to me, really, because I was convinced that if they broke something, like a bone, it would grow back. Now that I think about it, it sounds a bit silly, but it was really how I thought back then. So, I spent most of my teenage years doing intense training, which explains how I got to the point where I am now. And it was only recently when I found a letter sent to my father, on his desk.”

“Were you supposed to find it?”

“The truth is that … No,” Aspasia admitted, “but I knew that something had happened to him because his personality went through a drastic change. There was a period of time before I left Macedonia, where he would refuse to speak to me or deal with me, and I had to investigate it myself. I sneaked into his rooms and found in his office a letter that was addressed to him. It was written in Latin, which was odd because, although the orders we received from the Vatican were in Latin, no one in Macedonia communicated among each other in that language. Everything was done in Macedonian. Sometimes, but rarely, in Greek, if it involved foreigners or knights who came from abroad. I managed to decipher the message and understood it was a personal letter, rather than one sent from the higher ranks, that spoke of my mother, and her death. I assumed that the person who had sent the letter wrote in Latin because, either they did not speak Macedonian, or maybe they did not want that letter to be understood by anyone else. You see, few people there spoke Latin, including I. Do you remember how my Latin was when I arrived in Jerusalem? I have improved considerably.”

“What did that letter spoke of?” Baldwin asked, curiously.

“It gave details about my mother’s death. It was not an accident on the road, outside the city, but someone had gone there and hurt her. It included details on her death, like the location of her body or the material damage that was done, but … I could not point out if this letter was a report on her death … Or a threat to my father…”

Baldwin starred pensively into the fire.

Aspasia squinted her eyes a bit. Was it too much? Was he willing to listen to the rest? She placed a hand on his shoulder, and Baldwin said: “that is … indeed a mystery.”

“I hope I am not making you uncomfortable with this. You said you wanted to know more of my past and I felt comfortable sharing.”

“Please, do share.”

He took her hand in his as if to reassure her. Aspasia, with her thumb, caressed the bandaged knuckles.

“I tried to talk to my father, trying to get him to bring up the letter because he would not mention it to me, and it resulted in a fight like never before.”

“Did he beat you?”

“Huh… It’s complicated…” Aspasia admitted, “He did slap me, yes, but I have not been beaten the way some fathers beat their children or the way some husbands beat their wives. He would sometimes beat me as a child when I would be provoking others, but this behaviour diminished as I grew older. It was an explosive fight, indeed, and I ended up deciding that same night to run away. I packed my items in a bag and secretly prepared a horse we had there – the best one – for a long night of travel. Then, I decided to wreak havoc one last time before I left. I destroyed some items, set others on fire. It was both to piss them off, and to create mayhem. I used that opportunity to get my horse and run away.”

Baldwin chuckled at that. He saw the smile on Aspasia’s face and could not feel prouder of her. This was the first time she had been successful in standing her ground. “The Templars must have hated you.”

“Oh, you bet they did! They sent someone to come search for me. I don’t know what my dad was thinking. Was he going to beat me when he caught me? Did he suspect I knew about the existence of that letter? Was I going to go after my mother’s killer? I did not have any other goal than to get away from the Templars. No plan. Just an escape.”

“How far did you get?”

“I was almost caught one time by the same young man who used to be in charge of me. I killed him to escape and crossed the border to get to Greece. From there, I travelled from island to island and made my way to Attika, and Athens. I was almost caught there as well, but I escaped and headed to the nearest port and climbed on the first ship that left that day. This is how I arrived in Jerusalem.”

“And after that,” Baldwin trailed off, “you did various odd jobs to survive, and you were tasked by Phillip to assassinate Tiberias.”

“Exactly.”

“…” There was a pause. Aspasia sensed Baldwin wanted to say something. She waited for a moment, her eyes looking upon his mask. “Do we have any idea what Phillip might be after? What he wanted from Tiberias?”

Aspasia shrugged. “I want to ask him, but if I pressure him into this conversation, he will begin to suspect that we may not be siblings.”

Baldwin sighed, in annoyance.

“What?” Aspasia asked him.

“You… You know how much I hate this plan you had. Siblings, huh… He… Phillip is… dangerous… He could kill you if he wanted to. And you ran away with him, there is no way I can keep you safe from him.”

“No one is safe from Phillip as long as he is alive.”

“Glad we agree on that,” Baldwin said, looking visibly angry.

Aspasia linked their arms together and placed her head softly on her shoulder, making sure she was not applying too much pressure. “Please don’t be angry, Baldwin. I hate it when you’re angry at me.”

She placed a kiss on his shoulder and squeezed his hand a bit harder.

“I hope you know what you are doing,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

“I will get him to tell me what he knows. About my family, and everything.”

She made sure to not mention the jewel, which she carried on her at all times. Sibylla, as far as she knew, was the only one aware of it, and the princess did not seem to understand its value. Neither did Aspasia, but at least she was willing to investigate it.

“You two do look similar in a lot of ways,” Baldwin chuckled. “Same temperament, similar features…”

“Must be the Greek side in us,” Aspasia joked. “I could say the same to you, about Franks. I tend to notice many similar features among you.”

There was a moment of silence. The two of them starred at the fire and from afar, they could see the Mediterranean Sea. “Greece and Macedonia are in this direction,” Aspasia pointed her index finger into the distance, “and France in that one,” she moved her finger a bit more west.

“My nephew wishes to visit France one day. The land of his ancestors. And from your stories, he wants to travel to Greece and Macedonia as well. To visit your homeland.”

“He is very welcomed to visit Greece and Macedonia,” Aspasia smiled. “I will make sure to inform him of what is worthy to be visited there. Macedonia is beautiful, and Greece even more so. So many islands to see, a lot of good food and nice music… You know, I imagine you to look like your nephew, more than like Sibylla.”

Baldwin laughed at that. “You are not wrong. We have the same hair and eye colour.”

“It’s very beautiful.”

He nodded his head, thanking her. “Sometimes I look at him and see myself when I was young. We have the same personality; we share many similar tastes… No, let me rectify that: when I was younger, around his age, we had the same personality and we shared many similar tastes. I was, too, obsessed with knights and stories. I have grown up now and I act calmer and more composed than I used to be.”

“This is a positive sign, then,” Aspasia concluded, “that Jerusalem will have another good king to lead them, in war, in politics…”

“We can only hope for that. I don’t think I will be able to reign long enough to put an end to the present conflicts, but I pray that Tiberias and my own sister can find a way to make things much easier for Baldwin before he becomes an adult. That is, in about … ten years?”

They did not stay awake much longer. Aspasia flattened the sand beneath them and used her back as an attempt to create a pillow for Baldwin. They silently fell asleep by the fire that night and to the sound of waves.

←→

The next morning, Aspasia was woken up by the sound of seagulls. She looked up and saw the dark sky but in the far distance, a bit of light. She looked at Baldwin, next to her, wrapped inside the covers she had given him, and his mask resting on his face, sleeping peacefully. The fire in front of them still burned slowly.

Moving around, Aspasia woke him up softly. His eyelids fluttered open and he turned his head to face her. “Good morning, _mon amour,”_ he said.

She chuckled. “Good morning, _agapi mou_ ,” she responded in Greek. “It will be morning soon and we must travel back to Jerusalem.”

Baldwin stood up and Aspasia handed him a waterskin.

She then turned around and pretended to be busy arranging her hair, folding her cloak and getting her horse some water from a small pond, near the tree. Baldwin lifted his mask to drink some water, then put it back on, and helped Aspasia fold the cover he had used.

“How did you sleep, last night?” she asked him.  
  


“Quite well. Under the stars. By the sea. With the woman I love. It will be a night I shall never forget.”

Aspasia smiled, happy to hear that. “Then, let us head back. I don’t want to be arrested of kidnapping you.”

The two got on the horse and travelled back on the road that led to Jerusalem. After ridding for a little over an hour, they reached the gates of the city. The sun was poking out in the sky. Aspasia hurried to take Baldwin to the palace. When they reached the palace, they got off the horse on a small alley, and Aspasia told him he would have to walk in his own to the gates, and that she would be watching him.

“I will miss you,” Aspasia admitted to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “I shall come back soon to see you.”

“Please,” Baldwin said, “come inside with me. You can have breakfast, speak to Sibylla, and – “

“-You already know the answer to that,” Aspasia raised an eyebrow at him. Of course, he did. Countless times had he tried to negotiate with her to come back. Reassuring her that Sibylla and she had no bad blood, and that they would resolve everything because Sibylla too loved Aspasia too much. Seeing him disappointed shattered her heart a bit. She kissed him on the mask and then pulled him in an embrace. “I shall see you soon, in our secret meetings.”

“… Take care of yourself, Aspasia. With Phillip around … No, don’t laugh, I mean it.”

“Alright.”

Baldwin looked over his shoulder at her and headed toward the gates. Hidden in the shadow, she kept an eye on him to make sure nothing was going to happen. The guards that were posted at the gates in the morning were surprised to see the King, on his own, strolling through the city, and attempted to ask him what he was doing, but Baldwin dismissed them quickly and headed as if nothing had happened,

When she was sure he was safe and inside the palace grounds, Aspasia left. She took her horse to a stable for him to be fed and went through the market to shop for some food. Once she was done, she picked her items and took her horse back before heading to her hideout to meet Phillip.

She told herself that no matter what Phillip would say or do to her, nothing could ruin her mood. As she approached their hideout at the foot of the mountain, she found him nowhere near the camp, but their items were still there. Searching for him a bit, she assumed he had gone hunting or fishing. She set her groceries inside the cave, where it was cool, and began to wash some clothes, including the bag on which Baldwin had slept.

Phillip arrived soon after, some meat in his hands, probably a deer. “You are back, sister.” This was the first time they had spoken to each other.

“Did you miss me that much?”

He kicked her in the thigh, pushing her to fall over on her butt. “Watch it.”

“Fuck off. If you’re going to fight me, then do it properly, with a sword.”

“Oh, you really want to fight with a sword, huh? I don’t know what your lover would think if he learned that you died in a pitiful way.”

Aspasia clenched her fists and teeth. “Leave him out of this.”

“Don’t worry. I have nothing on him. What I do have, however, is a problem with the way my own _sister_ treats me.”

Aspasia was not sure if Phillip knew something about her lie or not. She could not escape this time, only lie her way out of a conflict. “What is it? Do you want to talk about something?” she provoked him.

“Yes. Let’s talk. Please, dear sister. Tell me about breaking my arm in battle.”

Phillip circled her. He left the meet on the ground, careless that the blood of the beast would dirty their camp, or that the meat should not be left out in the sun for too long. Aspasia tried to get up but Phillip pinned her to the ground.

“I wanted to protect you. You were losing that battle.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps I was,” she admitted, “but we have been clear that you would stay behind and let me take care of that.”

“No, we never did. I never agreed to that. You just barked orders at me and expected me to follow you blindly.”

“Because I knew things could get dangerous!”

“THAT’S A LIE!”

“LET GO OF ME!”

“NO!”

“FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT, PHILLIP, I SAID LET GO OF ME!”

She used her head to hit him and he almost fell back. Aspasia moved to the side, away from him, and placed both hands on her forehead. She looked at Phillip, who was more than willing to fight. She could not fight him. She needed him and she was going to lose if they engaged. Her hidden blades were at her wrists, but if she took them out first, it would be an open sign of aggression and hostility.

“You are such a bitch!” He spat at her.

“You should have listened to me! YOU SHOULD HAVE LISTENED _TO ME_. I am your sister, Phillip! You are my only family!! I had a plan and you almost ruined it!! If I broke your arm, it was to get you to leave the battle!! Why must you act like I am constantly lying to you, huh???”

He jumped at her and they rolled on the ground. Dust raised in the air, forming a cloud. Aspasia used her feet to kick him off of her and took her distance.

“Don’t make me take out my weapons, Phillip.”

“Why? Are you scared of a little blood? You think that, despite having a broken arm, I am more powerful than you?”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Phillip. You are my only family. We fought with our father like I have told you before, and I don’t want to fight with anyone else.”

“Strange way you have of showing that. Your actions demonstrate the contrary.”

“And what do you want, Phillip, huh?? To break my arm, in exchange? So that we can call it quit?”

“Don’t give me ideas, Aspasia.”

“You have so much anger in you. Let’s talk about it. Why do you think fighting me will resolve the issue? I am your sister, for God’s sake, Phillip!! You can share your troubles with me!!”

He laughed at her, and then kicked the dust with his food. Dirt flew in her mouth, and she bent in two, trying to cough it out and to spit the remaining that was in her mouth. Suddenly, Phillip kicked her in the stomach. She was almost out of the air, as her lungs emptied themselves, and she fell on her back.

Between breaths, she managed to word out: “Have you had enough?? Can we move forward??”

Phillip chuckled. “Funny how you are always willing to cooperate when you know you are about to lose. Normally, you would be too stubborn to see your wrongs, and now that I am a threat to you, you are quick to make peace. You have no honour and no moral code.”

“Perhaps you’re right…” She took a deep breath. “But among those things, I am also smart, and I have a strong sense of self-preservation.”

Another kick in the ground. This time, dirt and small pebbles flew in her direction. “We will see about that.”

Phillip picked up the dead meat and walked away, perhaps toward a stream of water to be able to wash it. Aspasia allowed herself to lay like this, trying to understand what had happened just that moment. Had she lost all hope of using Phillip? Was he too far away from her now? She HAD to do something to turn the situation. She must use a tactic to provoke a change of heart in him. She would have to think of something, and quickly because she could not live long with him, especially when he acted like this.

She thought of Baldwin’s words when he said that the two of them looked similar in terms of physical features and temperament. It was of no surprise to her, because she had also noted those similarities among her own people. It was due to their shared history, religion, traditions and mentalities. As for the physical traits, she could easily see why outsiders thought that Aspasia and Phillip, two individuals who came from, more or less, the same part of the world, would look the same. She thought she could play on that to convince Phillip that they were related. Did she need more material do make it work? Appeal to his emotions in a different way? Evoke a similar struggle they have been going through? Same hair, same eyes, same skin colour was no longer sufficient, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the travel time between Jerusalem and the coast, there are about 50 kilometres from Jerusalem to the water. If you were to stand on the Mount of Olives, you should be able to see the sea, it appears. Assuming the average horse can gallop at around 30 or 40 km/hour (I believe racehorses can sprint at much greater speed but that is not what interests us), you could assume it would take over an hour to cover the distance of 50 kilometres. In this time, I include the time it takes to take a break for water, for food, for resting a bit.


	45. Like True Siblings

That day, their relationship remained cold. Matters were left unresolved but at least they could cohabit without jumping at each others’ throat. Aspasia had not tried to speak to Phillip while she silently formulated a plan. They needed, in order to bond again, to face a common enemy, and she had a few ideas of who that could be.

Phillip cut the meat and cooked it. It was going to be enough to feed them and to sell the remaining to a merchant at the market. With the money they would make from it, they could buy a variety of other types of foods, like vegetables. It would suffice them for the following days, perhaps week. While there was still light outside, Phillip had taken his horse and headed to the nearby village to do just that. Aspasia was left to her own devices, at their camp. When he had come back, it had gotten dark. He left their provisions in a cool place, in the shadow and made sure to keep his distance from her. The two remained far away from each other, refusing to speak.

Night came and the two went to sleep, Phillip was the first one to keep watch. Aspasia managed to close her eyes for a brief moment and relax. She would then roll to the side and adjust her position. She opened her eyes briefly. The campfire was still burning and keeping warm. Phillip sat a bit further from her. His face was partially illuminated by the light, head hanging back against a rock, his eyelids appearing to be closed. Aspasia did not realize how tired he was. She got up and walked to him. Shaken softly by the shoulder, he woke up. “Go to sleep, I’ll keep watch,” she told him. Without speaking, Phillip took her spot and went to sleep. Aspasia laid back against the same rock. She looked up into the sky and wondered what Baldwin must have been doing at that time. Was he also watching the stars? Perhaps he was asleep. He must have had a busy day. Did the others find out he disappeared that night when they went to the beach? Perhaps not, otherwise, they would have sent knights to search for him.

While lost in her own thoughts, she thought her eyes closed for a bit. The sound of a bird in the distance could be heard. Suddenly, Phillip moved from his spot, wide awake. Aspasia shook her head and focused her gaze on him. What was the matter? He could read that thought in her eyes, and he said: “we must go.”

“What?”

Phillip stood on his feet and dusted off his clothes.

“Are we in danger, Phillip?”

“Us? No. But maybe Kazem is.”

She blocked for a second. Who was Kazem? And then she remembered. It was the man from Masyaf. The two of them were not far from that city. They could reach it quickly by horse. She looked up in the sky one more time and searched for the bird. How did Phillip recognize it? Was it unconscious? Was that his eagle, Huma? Aspasia squinted as if it would help her see better. She could barely spot the eagle fly in the dark sky, the moon barely allowing any light. If Phillip recognized it, she must follow him.   
  


The two siblings put their cloaks and gauntlets on and took their horse in the direction of Masyaf. Up in the sky, the Eagle seemed to follow them, even guide them to its master.

They arrived near the city, not far from the oasis where they first met, and saw a figure in the distance. The eagle descended and sat on the person’s arm. It must have been Kazem. Phillip led them to him and when they arrived, the two siblings got off their horse and joined the man. Kazem fed the eagle a piece of raw meat and looked at Phillip and Aspasia. “You made it,” he said. He then released the eagle, and Huma flew in the distance.

“You called for us. We thought you were in trouble,” Phillip said.

“Trouble? Soon, yes. I have men in Aleppo. It’s south of the County of Edessa, north of Syria. They say the routes leading to Jerusalem are busier than before, with knights.”

“Knights?” Aspasia asked. Most of them came here by boat, directly from Messina, Athena or the Kingdom of Cyprus. “What routes are you referring to?”

“Through Constantinople, then through Armenia, all the way. They passed Antioch. Many Muslims are there, after they have taken that land from the Christians years ago. These travellers are Templars, heading to Jerusalem.”

“Templars?” Phillip asked, incredulous. “From where exactly in Europe?”

“We don’t know." There was a long pause. Kazem sighed and then continued: "My people and I, we have the same goal as you.” This time, Kazem was addressing directly to Phillip and Aspasia as individuals. “We know that the Templars work together toward the same goal. Your men, however, seem to be deliberately causing trouble and wreaking havoc. We cannot continue like this, you must talk to them and get them to cease disturbing the local affairs. How are we otherwise supposed to keep going?”

A same goal? What was he talking about? Aspasia bit her tongue, knowing that if she asked too many questions, it would expose her secret and Phillip will get curious.

“We don’t have any jurisdiction over that,” Phillip said and then glanced at Aspasia who nodded.

“It appears that even among the Templars, there are misunderstandings,” Aspasia tried to calm the situation. “You said, the last time we met, that the Franks were going about, taunting the Muslims by patrolling too close to the borders, and killing innocents. One of the men responsible is in prison, while the other is too afraid and stupid to act on his own. That has been dealt with. Do you have any idea who these next Templars are? Absolutely nothing?”

Kazem seemed to despise talking to her. At any opportunity, he would jump at her neck. Phillip noticed that and moved to stand between them, hands on his hips. “Answer her question.”

“I-I… We … We are not too sure. We think they may be coming from Greece or the Balkans. We don’t know.”

“Is that to warn us or to make a threat?” Phillip questioned.

“Neither. Both. I don't know. Take it as you like it. But when they will get here, and meet the men who came from France, there will be a clash, and this will compromise the peace that we have right now.”

Aspasia sighed. She understood that these men must have been from Macedonia. Were they coming after her? Was she _that_ important? She could not believe that. Was it the jewel perhaps? Hard to believe. If it was that much of a value that Phillip, Saladin and her own father wanted it, why would it be in the hands of Akakios, a good for nothing? Phillip knew nothing of it, which was both encouraging and discouraging to her.

“I don’t like the tone you are taking with me,” warned him Phillip.

“And I don’t like the fact that she is still alive,” Kazem hissed. “I don’t understand you sometimes. You are such a fool, it’s unbelievable how you managed to survive this long.”

Aspasia jumped between them and threw a punch in his face. Kazem, not expecting that, fell on the ground, his body hitting the floor loudly. Aspasia was about to jump on him and grab him by the neck, angry that he was just about to expose her, when Phillip managed to wrap his hands around her torso and pull her back. “STOP IT!”

“HE INSULTED YOU!” Aspasia lied. If it stroked his ego, it was worth it. Perhaps Kazem was the common enemy that she had been waiting for. If Phillip could understand that Kazem was going to break them apart, she could still get back on his side.

“STOP IT!”

He pushed Aspasia away, and interposed himself between them. One hand up, he indicated her to calm down. Looking behind him, Kazem was bleeding from the nose. He muttered an insult, barely audible, and got up.

“Get up.”

Kazem looked at Phillip. He was extending a hand at him. Kazem refused it. “She will be the death of you.”

“Shut up.”

Kazem got up on his own.

“You better find the artifact before anyone else. God forbids Saladin gets his hand on it. He has the means and resources, enough men and horses to scout the earth but he has other battles to take.”

“Artefact?”

Aspasia’s heart began to beat rapidly. Was he referring to the jewel she had? And why was Phillip asking questions now? This would put them in big trouble if Kazem recognized her as the imposter. She was already an imposter in his eyes, but to know that Phillip was clueless about everything and that Aspasia was manipulating the situation…

Luckily, Kazem did not hear what Phillip said as a question, but rather as a repetition and confirmation of what he had said before. “There are rumours of an ancient tomb. No one has found it, but I can tell you that it’s there, somewhere. An ancient civilization. From ancient times. Even before the reign of Alexander the Great.” Kazem looked in the distance, in the mountains. The city was almost like an oasis in the desert, by itself. There were no major trade routes, no major water sources or gold. Who built it here and why? Did Kazem know where that vault, he spoke of was? What were the stories around it? A treasure perhaps? An artifact that the alchemists sought, maybe? How was it connected to the artifact Saladin wanted? Did the artifact serve as a key? Or maybe a map?

“We must work in silence. Away from the people, and into the shadows,” Kazem reminded them. “If there is war, we will have to postpone everything. Saladin has turned a blind eye to the Templars, because we have managed to convince him that it was not worth the war, but he has men and a council behind him who put pressure on him. He made promises to the Muslims about getting back the Holy Land and he cannot afford to break his promise too many times.”

Phillip nodded. Did he understand or was he pretending to? “We got the message.”

“Good. In that case, my job here is done.”

He turned his back, eager to leave when something made itself heard. The three characters froze. Aspasia looked around, and then at Phillip. There was someone there, in the distance. It was too dark to see anyone coming.

“Who’s there?”

Kazem took out a sabre and scanned their surroundings. The sounds of footsteps became louder and finally, a few figures stood in the shadows. Men, dressed in mail and armour, holding a sword and a helmet with a cross as a hole. Could it only be Templar knights? How have they gotten in Syria? All three characters were asking themselves the same question. A horse moved in the background, agitated by something. Other men were coming from behind, circling them.

“One… two… three… Four… Five… Only five…” said Phillip.

“Huh,” scoffed Kazem. “ _Only_. Don’t get too cocky, Phillip.”

Phillip smirked. Aspasia watched them interact. Kazem seemed to be very close to him. She and Phillip took out their hidden blades and stood back to back. Aspasia had to be honest with herself and admit that Phillip’s confidence gave her a bit of hope. She could not understand why these knights came after them. To spy on them? To assassinate them? To steal the jewel from her?

“Who sent you here?” Phillip roared, his voice projecting very far. The men did not answer but brandished their sword. “Fuck it,” he whispered. He then looked at Aspasia, her face barely illuminated. “You’ve got my back and I’ve got yours.”

“Of course,” she nodded her head.

“And what about me?” joked Kazem.

Calmly and in position, they were prepared for the fight that was about to come. Kazem was going to take on two knights, and Aspasia and Phillip would share the three others. It was the first time Aspasia was going to see Kazem fight. She knew she will have to deal with him one day and now was the time to collect all the data she wanted.

The knights charged first. Swords clashed. Sand and dust rose in the air as they moved, jumped, duked and pushed. Aspasia would catch the first knight and immobilize him as Phillip pierced him with his sword. Then, with the two other knights, each took care of their own. Aspasia blocked each attack, left and right. The man had a lot of strength in his arms, but his armour was heavy and his helmet blocked part of his view. “ASPASIA!” Phillip called her name.

Phillip bent down and Aspasia jumped over his back, and both switched fighters. She took on his attacker. The knight was limping from one foot, where Phillip had hit him. Aspasia managed to get his arm behind his back, making his elbow crack, and kick him in the lower back. The knight fell in the sand and Aspasia inserted the hidden blade between two pieces of his armour connected. The man bled from the shoulder blades and barely moved.

Aspasia ran to Phillip’s aid. They circled the knight, like wolves that circled their blade. “How did you break your sword, brother?” Aspasia asked.

“Not too sure. This motherfucker right here managed to break the handle. Think I could borrow yours?”

Aspasia smirked. “Sure. But don’t break it.”

She threw the sword in the air to Phillip. The knight tried to intercept it with his own sword but Aspasia used her hidden blade to stop his wrist from moving toward her weapon. He began to bleed from his hand. Phillip caught her sword in the air and took the opportunity to attack him from behind. The knight quickly turned on his heels and blocked his attack. Aspasia aimed for his thighs, but the knight moved just in time. She rolled on the ground to get were Phillip was standing and Phillip circled the man to take her spot.

He raised his sword above his head and struck for the head. Aspasia hit from the side. The knight could barely keep up with the incoming attacks. He fell on one knee and attempted to block one and the other, but the two siblings overpowered him. Phillip ended up using the butt if the sword to knock him unconscious, and Aspasia turned his neck to the side until a cracking sound was heard.

The body fell limply to the ground. Phillip sighed heavily, feeling his heart beat fast in his chest. He looked over at Aspasia, who gave him a small smile, showing her teeth. Both exhausted, they looked at Kazem. The man had knocked down two knights on his own. He kicked one body to see if the knight was still alive, but it did not move. Aspasia and Phillip looked at him, impressed.

“Who are these guys…” Kazem asked.

He lifted his arm and wiped the sweat off his brows with his sleeve. The sleeve moved a bit, exposing part of his skin, and part of what appeared to be bandaged. Aspasia’s heart palpitated rapidly inside her chest. His injuries, all wrapped up, seemed familiar to her. Was he the man who intruded, at the King’s palace? The one who she fought until she gave out? She glanced over at Phillip, who did not seem as bothered as she was. Of course, he was going to be neutral; he had no recollection whatsoever about what happened. Aspasia understood why Kazem hated her, and why he had trouble with Phillip. It was Phillip who sent him to assassinate her, or to steal the jewel from her, a man far more skilled than he was.

“Do you recognize them? … Huh? … Aspasia?... Wake up!”

Phillip put his hand on her shoulder, bringing her back to reality. In the most natural voice possible, she said: “perhaps no ordinary Templars. They must have been paid to come here, in Muslim lands, after us.”

“Us?” Phillip asked.

“You and I, I would say,” Aspasia explained, “unless Kazem,” she looked at him, a severe glare in her eyes, “has made some enemies as well.”

Kazem raised two hands in the air, claiming to be innocent.

Aspasia sighed. It must have been Guy. He had control over the Templars in Jerusalem. Aspasia walked to a body and removed the helmet. Based on the physical appearances, she guessed that they were Franks. She did not recognize them, however. “Of course, these guys would be stupid enough to cross the border to Syria for a bit of money.” Guy must have hired them because they were new and not familiar yet with the situation.

“How did they spot us?”

Aspasia looked at Phillip and shrugged. “I don’t know. I was sure I was not followed when I came back from Jerusalem.”

“Was it the eagle?” he referred to Huma.

“I doubt it.”

Kazem shook his head, then his hands. “Alright, well,” he said, “please solve this amongst yourselves. I have passed the message. _This_ is exactly what I was warning you two about.”

“What is it?” Aspasia raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to leave so quickly?”

“Yes. This is utter bullshit. I will not get myself killed trying to protect your arses.”

“Well,” Aspasia interjected, “maybe you are so eager to leave because you sent them for us.”

The thought of having Kazem die that night crossed her mind. It would have been so beneficial. He would poison Phillip’s mind and be a nuisance to her. Phillip would help her, definitely. He would do anything to protect his little sister.

Sensing that the tension rise, Phillip quickly got between them, pushing Aspasia behind and keeping Kazem from jumping at her throat. “We should take a deep breath. We are all tired.” He pulled Aspasia back forcefully and nodded his head at Kazem, wishing him a pleasant night. The latter quickly got on his horse and left before he would have to say one other word to her.

Phillip held Aspasia firmly by the forearm and dragged her to the horse. “Let go! You are holding too tight!”

“Why must you always fight with him? Huh??”

“He just … rubs me off in the wrong way. He’s not a good person.”

“And you are? Pfff…”

Aspasia frowned. “Please. I may be as rude as I want, but I know for a fact that I am not evil to the core.”

“Evil to the core,” Phillip repeated, almost mocking her.

“You saw how he took down two knights! On his own!”

“Are you jealous perhaps?”

Aspasia laughed. “Of course, I am! I always wanted to be this strong. But trust me, Phillip, something is not right with him! He will try to hurt us, one day. Sooner or later.”

She could simply not tell him about what she knew. Phillip and Aspasia looked at the knights on the ground and climbed each on their horses. “We must find another place to sleep tonight. Who knows if they found our old hideout?” Aspasia nodded to his suggestion. She smiled a bit, remembering their fight. It was the first time they worked together, and they seemed to be perfectly synchronized, in a way she had never thought of. It was odd, but it was a pleasant feeling. Phillip noticed how happy and light-hearted she seemed and smiled too. It was the first time they truly felt like siblings. It was her first time that she had a partner who had her back. It was a refreshing feeling to know that she could count on him, in battle. Maybe she could use him to help her take down Kazem. All she had to do was to find a way to blame him for their misfortune.


	46. The Pickpocket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was writing for a few days now and I decided to post it, even though I could have made it longer. Hope you enjoy!

Aspasia found herself in Jerusalem, a rare occasion when she did not go there to see Baldwin. Instead, she walked the busy streets, dressed like a peasant, shopping for food while Phillip waited at camp for her to get back. On Saturday, people went to the market Sunday, many of the shops were closed, and most went to Church. She took notice of the increasing number of knights, specifically Templars, patrolling the streets. Wondering to herself if they were new on the territory or if they were searching for someone, she decided she was going to ask Baldwin about it on the next occasion she would have to see him. Basket in hand, she walked the streets, avoiding the crowds as she was still fearful someone would spot her and arrest her.

She passed the familiar street, where she was standing when she first set foot in Jerusalem. A few meters away from her was the familiar jewelry kiosk. She sold her rings, earrings and necklaces from Macedonia to the man who was working. Her eyebrows furrowed, that memory was slightly painful to her. It was like a sting in the heart. She had worn jewelry given to her at the palace by Sibylla but her own had a special place in her heart. She walked toward the same man, who did not seem to recognize her. “Lady! Lady! How many I serve you, today? Are you looking for any piece in particular?”

She smiled and looked down. When she arrived in Jerusalem and spoke to this man, her Latin was not very good. She could form sentences but could barely conjugate verbs correctly. Looking down at his merchandise, she looked at each piece. Many were new to his collection, but some were familiar. She fished them out of the pile and placed them delicately on his table.

“One… Two… Three…”

She found a total of four. Three necklaces and one pair of earrings which she had from Macedonia. She came to Jerusalem with more, but the man must have sold some of them to other clients. Too bad. She was going to console herself by saying that recuperating what she could was better than nothing. She was glad she found these at least. “Very well. Anything else I can help you with? No? Are you ready to pay, then?”

She gave him the money he asked her and put on the pieces. The necklaces did not match one with another, and her clothes were not fancy at all, but she did not care. She was so happy to have found some of her pieces from back home. “Thank you very much,” she told him in perfect Latin as she walked away.

As she wandered aimlessly, she looked down at her chest, and between her fingers, she played with the little jewels. She did not realize how much she had missed them. They were her own, since the beginning. Putting them in a little pouch, she attacked it to her bag and placed it inside it. She had decided to keep around her neck only one necklace this time. As she walked through the busy streets, a strange mass bumped into her and it made a strange sound: “HUMPF!” a small voice puffed.

Aspasia looked down at her feet was a little girl, curly and messy brown locks in her face, olive skin and clothes that looked like they have not been washed in a long time. She had almost fallen if Aspasia has not caught her by the forearm. “I’m so sorry!” Aspasia said, “be careful in these busy streets!” The last part sounded more like a warning. The little girl nodded her head, looking almost as if she was about to cry, and ran away. Aspasia looked at her, frowning a bit. She looked curiously in the direction in which the little girl disappeared. Did she not have parents? Was she lost and too afraid to ask for help? Her hand instinctively went to her bag. Inside it, where there was supposed to be her jewelry and the red gem, there was nothing.

“Shit!! Shit, shit, shit, shit!! COME BACK!” She began to chase her.

The girl looked over her shoulder and saw Aspasia coming her way so she began running faster. Aspasia, unlike the little girl who could sneak between the feet of the people walking, had to push past everyone to chase her. The girl made a turn on a small alley, thinking she would lose her, but Aspasia climbed on a pile of wooden boxes, onto a balcony, then on a rooftop, and followed her from above. There was panic in the girl’s face as she saw Aspasia could easily cut her path from above. She made her way through a busy street where Aspasia would not find her, among the crowd. The young woman parkoured from one building to another, almost falling off a few times, and remained close to the girl.

“What is that?”

“Look up!”

“Goodness gracious!”

Aspasia had to get down. If people noticed her there, guards would look up and find her. She jumped, falling on the ground, dust rising in the air on the impact of her weight on the ground, and she continued her chase. She saw the girl attempted to hide in another small alley, behind a cart filled with bags of grains, and Aspasia caught her by surprise. She jumped over the cart, caught the girl by the arm and pinned her to the ground, making sure she was not hurt.

“Gotcha!” she said. The girl began squirming, unable to free herself from Aspasia’s grip. “Where do you think you are going with my jewelry?” Her whole body was getting hot due to the demanding physical exercises. Pearls of sweat rolled down her forehead. Inside the girl's grip, there was the little pouch with the jewelry and the gem. “You put up quite the chase, I’m impressed.”

“Let me go!!!”

“Give me my jewelry, then.”

“Let me go or I will scream!!!”

“Scream. I will tell the guards you stole my belongings and off to prison with you! Do you know what they do to criminals here? They hang them.” She raised an eyebrow at her as if to ask her ‘is that what you want?’ What she had told the little girl was a lie, of course. She was not going to call the guards. Both of them would be in big trouble. But the little girl did not need to know that. “Now. My jewelry.” Aspasia extended her hand. The girl frowned and then handed her the small pouch. She felt the familiar weight, and based on the shape the bag took, the red gem was still inside. “Is that everything?” Aspasia asked just to make sure. The little girl took out of her pocket one last necklace, which she had stolen from Aspasia as well. The woman was not going to admit that she was impressed by the little girl’s skills. To take out a necklace and hide it separately from the rest, in case she got caught.

“Why do you want it back so much?”

Aspasia laughed hysterically. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” she said, “it’s MY jewelry. Of course, I want it back.”

“No, I mean why would you go to such a length for something that is worth almost nothing. Bread is more expensive than what you have.”

Aspasia pretended to be hurt, by putting a hand on her chest and saying 'ouch!' The girl was partially right, her jewelry did not contain any precious metal. She had worn more expensive things when she was living in the palace, but still. “Hey! Not everything has monetary value in life!” Aspasia scolded her.

The little girl shrugged. “I’m just surprised you would jump on buildings and chase me from above like that for nothing.” Of course, the girl would not know anything about the gem inside.

Aspasia had to come up with a lie: “they belonged to my deceased mother. It is all I have from her. They may not be worth a fortune, but they have a sentimental value.” She was surprised to see the expression on the little girl’s face. She quickly turned from bitter to sadness. Did Aspasia hit a nerve? “What’s wrong, kiddo?... What?... Suddenly mute?”

“Let go of my arm!”

“Alright, alright!”

Aspasia let go and the girl took a step away. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the girl. “What are you doing, pickpocketing people like that? Why are you alone? Where is your family?”

“That is none of your business.”

“Well, it is, because I will have to report a missing child to the authorities, for them to find your guardian. They will not be happy to hear about your history of stealing from people.”

Another lie. But the girl reacted just the way Aspasia wanted her to.

“Fine, I’ll tell you. But please, don’t tell anyone.”

“I promise.”

“Alright. Well, I came from Syria with my mother, and our caravan was attacked by knights at night, days ago. No one survived that massacre. I had to hide under my mother’s dead body and play dead while they killed off the remaining men. We were heading to Jerusalem to be with my dad. He lives here somewhere, but the city is big, and I cannot find him.”

Aspasia felt her heart sink at the bottom of her stomach.

“I don’t understand: how long have you been roaming the streets of Jerusalem? Are you without a home now?”

“Just a day. And yes. But I am convinced I can find him!!! He is here somewhere, my mom kept telling me that we will meet up with him and live with him!”

“And you have not spoken to any guard? No authority figure? I am sure they will help you find your father. They will probably ask you to describe him and they will send men to search him for you.”

“I’m afraid these are the same men responsible for what happened to me and my mother.”

Aspasia bit her lower lip. She wasn’t going to question the girl too much about what had happened to her mother, in fear that it would bring back memories. She had to get her to her father, but she could not be the one to do that, otherwise, she would get caught by the guards and be sent to prison. “Have you eaten?” The little girl shook her head in response. She was perhaps planning to sell the jewelry in order to buy some food. Aspasia puffed and rolled her eyes to herself. It would be a lie to say that she did not take pity on this little girl. “Come on, follow me.”

“Where are you going?”

“To have lunch. I also happen to be hungry.”

She extended her hand to the little girl and she took it, now she had a big grin on her face. “My name is Arwa, by the way," the little girl said, "what is yours?”

“Aspasia.”

“Both our names start with the same letter,” Arwa giggled happily. Aspasia laughed a bit, embarrassed and uncomfortable. She did not know how to behave around little girls. Surely, they were different from little boys. The only experience she had with children was with Baldwin, but the prince was already exceptional, more educated than the average child. The prince had a completely different personality and upbringing, I'm comparison to other children. Aspasia and Arwa intertwined fingers and Aspasia held her firmly and close to her so that the two would not get separated by the crowd. The two girls walked hand in hand on the streets of Jerusalem and Aspasia headed to the market. There, she bought bread, vegetables and some already cooked meat. When they paid for it, they walked on a more quiet alley where they could sit down and eat.

Arwa sat down next to her and waited for Aspasia to prepare her her meal, her hands resting on Aspasia's tighs. Aspasia broke the bread in two, one half for her and one for Arwa. She Took Arwa's half, and cut it horizontally so that she could insert inside the meat and the vegetables. She handed it for the little girl and gave her a napkin to use in case she spilled something on herself. “Wow, you’re not only a skilled acrobat, but also a cook!”

“Is that irony?”

Arwa gave Aspasia a vicious look and smiled, the way Aspasia did when she was caught doing something that was not correct. The young woman chuckled. So, the little girl had a sense of humour. Aspasia bit into the bread and then took a piece of meat and put it in her mouth. “Where did you learn those skills, Aspasia?”

“I was training since I was a kid in my home country, Macedonia."

“That is part of the Byzantium Empire, no? How old?”

“About your age.”

Arwa gave her a big smile, completely unbothered by the fact that she did not finish chewing and swallowing her food yet. “I should start training now if I want to be like you!”

Aspasia laughed, throwing her head back. She adjusted her position, legs crossed, and laid her back against the cold stone wall behind her. “Oh please. No, you don’t want to be like me, trust me. You can do much better.”

“I never saw anyone do what you did before: jump from one building to another, without any fear. I think it is a very useful skill to have.”

“Thank you, kid, but a very useful skill to have in today’s world is reading and writing. If you can do that, you are going to find a lot of work, transcribing manuscripts or teaching.”

“Can you read and write?”

“A bit. I am more proficient in some languages than others.”

“And did you get a job with that?” Arwa asked.

The moment the words escaped her mouth, Arwa began giggling.Aspasia was about to bring another piece of bread in her mouth when she suddenly stopped, hand hanging in the air and mouth agape. Was she trying to trick her, with those questions? “Wow, you got me here,” Aspasia pretended to be dejected, “if you want to learn how to trap your enemies, you must learn how to keep a serious face all along. You cannot deliver me a punch with a smart remark and then start laughing, otherwise, people will catch onto that.”

“I will take note of that.”

Aspasia wiped her hands using a napkin and said: “alright well, is your stomach full now? Are you happy? Don’t say I didn’t do anything for you.”

“Thank you for the meal.”

It sounded sincere. “Your welcome," Aspasia answered, "here, let me give you some coins so that you can buy more food if you ever get hungry. And please, hurry up to find your dad – it’s not safe for children to stay without a guardian like this, especially for us, girls.” Aspasia searched her bag for a few coins and gave Arwa as much as she could. Phillip will not notice it. “If I catch you out in the streets like that again, I’m calling the guards and bringing you to the Marshall’s office.”

Arwa got up. She looked at Aspasia and smirked: “that’s a lie.”

A bit annoyed by her smart mouth, Aspasia quickly shooed her away. Arwa laughed to herself and ran. She watched the little girl leave the alley, her brown messy locks jumping at the rhythm of her steps. Aspasia scratched the inside corner of her eye, not sure if she was about to cry. The girl’s clothes were a bit messy and she smelled of sweat, for not having showered in a certain period of time. If her father was in Jerusalem, Arwa will find him. The city was divided into quarters, and Arwa was going to search the Muslim quarter to find him.

Having eaten her meal, Aspasia picked up her bag and prepared to leave. The sun, at its highest point in the sky, heated up the land. Among the masses of people and a large number of animals – horses, donkeys and camels – to roam the city, everything became more agitated. Aspasia thought that she was boiling, in her clothes, with a bag on her back. She removed her hood but kept her gaze low as if to avoid eye contact with guards that patrolled the city.

As she walked, she sensed a presence. Someone was probably following her. In the back of her mind, she knew – she could not explain how, but she did – that someone had their eyes on her. Was she in immediate danger? Without looking back, she tried to quicken her pace. She walked past many people going in the opposite direction as her and took a turn on a small alley. No one seemed to be coming after her, and so she walked through the alley and reached the other end. Looking in all directions, Aspasia began to panic. Was all of this her imagination? She had been very cautious as she travelled and when she was in public places for sure, but she was not paranoid. She looked behind her one more time. There was no one there. Where was he hiding?

She put on her hood and walked out in the street, keeping her head low. With people wearing headscarves and turbans, she blended in perfectly. She walked like this, not sure where she was heading, and head beating fast. She muttered an insult under her breath. Why would they not just leave her alone? What did they want? Her or to jewel? Or information about Phillip? Phillip must have had other enemies, other than Aspasia, Tiberias and the King. Could they be coming after him, and her?

She kept walking, throwing a glance over her shoulder. She barely had the time to analyze her surroundings when a strong arm pulled her aside. She began tumbling, tripping onto her feet, in an alleyway. Falling on the ground, she barely had the time to look up and see who pulled her aside that she kicked them in the knee and made them fall. She instantly ran, ran as fast as she could. She made her way through another crowd, pushing people left and right. There were a few gasps coming from women and insults from men. Another wave of exclamations could be heard from behind, indicating that her attacker was not far behind. She pushed past people and climbed onto a cart, pulled by two horses. When she was on it, she looked behind her. A man in a Templar’s uniform ran after her, face and identity concealed by a helmet. Aspasia began to panic, Kazem’s warning coming to mind. Where they already in Jerusalem? So quickly?

The cart approached an intersection, and, in the intersection, several wood logs used to hold buildings caught her attention. She could use it as an escape. By climbing on them, she could get on the rooftop and parkour away. Could that knight keep up with her? He certainly could not, with that heavy armour.

“HEY! YOUNG WOMAN!” a voice called out. They were screaming at her. The man who led the cart noticed there was a woman who had climbed in. All eyes were on her. She quickly jumped off the cart, climbed the side of the wall, using the wood logs to help her get up, and got on a balcony. She ran through the apartments, several women screaming as an intruder sprinted past them, inside private property. She ran past them, got to the opposite end, and jumping. She landed on a patch of green grass, inside a private garden, and ran to another wall. There, she climbed it quickly, passing her feet over it, and landing on the ground once again, this time finding herself on another alley. She heard rapid footsteps ran to her and her body was heavily thrown back.

To her own surprise, she fell with her back first, almost all of the air inside her lungs coming out. She coughed but despite the state of shock, she jumped on her feet. The same Templar knight had caught up to her, God knows how. She begins to kick, punch, pull. She takes out her sword, but he quickly pulls out his, blocking her attacks effectively. Hissing and panting, she uses her own sword to the attacker, but he quickly grabs her arm and kicks her to the ground. She rolls on the side, painfully putting a hand on her one stomach, and spits out a bit of blood which she had in her mouth. The man, twice her size and thrice the amount of strength, had not used his weapon to slice her. Why would he only block her attacks? What did he want, if not to hurt her?

“YOU TWO!” a voice shouted. “WHAT IS THAT COMMOTION?”

Suddenly, the Templar knight pulled her away from the guards heading their way. He climbed on top of a building, almost dragging Aspasia by the collar of her shirt and the two of them ran away, as the guards attempted to chase after them. For some reason, Aspasia kept following him. She was the one being chased, why was she following him, then?

“STOP!”

He did not listen.

“SLOW DOWN!! STOP!!”

The knight jumped over the edge of a roof and landed on the rooftop of another house, and he rolled to protect his body from the impact. While on the other side, he stood up and turned his head to Aspasia. She sighed, realizing that she would have to jump as well.

And so, she did that. She almost fell, feet slipping off of the edge, but a strong arm caught her by the wrist. She looked up, the knight was looking down at her, and through the hole of his helmet, she recognized a face. “Father?” she asked with indignation. Her heart was beating fast inside her chest. Was he going to drop her? Looking down, if she fell, she could get seriously hurt. Was he going to punish her? Bring her back by force?

“You were better than that, at parkour,” his deep and coarse voice spoke to her in the calmest way, “have you had any practise while you were gone?”


	47. A Death in the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia's father will answer all of her questions. She is not prepared to learn the truth yet, however.

Aspasia’s father lifted her up with a lot of ease, as if her weight was absolutely nothing to him. He dropped her on the rooftop and let her get up on her own. Guards who have been chasing after them kept looking for them. They searched the area, and separated to go through several different alleys, obviously having lost track of them. The last guard turned on a street, and Aspasia proceeded to take a few steps away from the edge. Her father was too close to her for her liking, so she took another few steps back, away from him.

She analyzed him and looked at his clothes. He has aged a lot in the last years, but he was just as skilled as she remembered him to be. For a man of his size and weight, compared to her, it must have been hard to run, climb, and jump, like she did. It felt surreal to be standing in front of her father, whom she had hoped to never see again.

“Why are you wearing a Templar’s uniform?” she asked suspiciously. He never wore the ordinary uniform, but rather had his own set to distinguish him from the ordinary knights, as the Grandmaster of the Macedonian Rite.

His white hair shined brightly under the sunlight. Aspasia always wondered why her father had that hair colour. Was it hereditary? Was it stress that made it look like that? He had been like that ever since she met him. Since the last time she had seen him, he had gained a few wrinkles too. Now, even his beard matched with the colour of his hair. He answered: “to blend in the masses.” There was a long pause as if he was expecting her to say something, but Aspasia looked at him with disgust and disdain. “Is that what you are going to ask, after what you did when you ran away?|

She was fuming inside. Her fists tightened into balls, her knuckles turning white. “That kitchen in Macedonia was in desperate need of renovation. Setting it on fire was nothing, you should thank me for it, in fact.” It was true that that night she had planned to set on fire many other things, but she refrained from doing it.

“Thank you for it, you say, huh. I should have corrected you when you were much younger. Now, it is too late for that-”

“- Stop right there. I have nothing to say to you. In fact, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say either.”

“Good. But that is your problem. Not mine. You need to grow up, Aspasia. You can be so immature at times. I too don’t want to be here and having this conversation, but circumstances are such that I must speak to you.”

Aspasia crossed her arms over her chest and turned her back to him. Looking at him from the corner of her eyes, she saw that her father did not appear to want to calm down or appease her. They were not going to resolve their issues that day. There were many things that have been left unspoken since Aspasia joined the Order when she was still a child. They have pushed Aspasia to make a dramatic escape. It pained her to think that her father did not value their relationship enough to want to reconcile with her. After all, she was his only child and he was her only parent, and there were moments in life when she would have needed a father, not a Grandmaster, to guide her.

“State what is your purpose here. I cannot guarantee I can be useful to you in any way.”

“Good. Glad to see that we are going back to business.” He took a long pause as if to search for the right words. It was odd because her father never had problems when it came to giving bad news because this was his purpose in being in Jerusalem: to tell her the bad news. She braced herself. If her father seemed to be troubled by … whatever was troubling her, what was going to be her reaction.

“Speak.”

“Aspasia, … This whole story-”

“- What?”

“It’s much bigger than you can imagine.”

She paused for a second, her brows furrowed. She clenched her teeth, getting more and more nervous as the seconds passed. “Bigger than what?”

“Bigger than you and I. Bigger than our family.”

“No. Stop right there.”

Her father frowned. “What is it?”

“ _Our_ family? What a joke. There is no ‘our family.’ ‘Our family’ is dead and has been dead for over ten years. In fact, I recall ‘our family’ did not want to see you, last time you came to visit.”

“I will not attempt to justify my actions nor beg for your forgiveness, believe me. The problem we are facing is much bigger than the small world you are part of. When you ran away, you took something away that was very important.”

“And what did I take, pray tell?”

“A ruby. Small about this size,” her father showed with his fingers.

As he did that, her heart began palpitating rapidly. She thought her feet were turning soft and could not keep her straight up. The red gem, inside her bag, felt like the heaviest object in the world. Did her father know, that she had it on her, at that moment? Seeing that she was not answering, he then added: “I bet you had no idea that this little precious stone was that important.”

“First of all, I did not take any precious stone from you. I took it from Akakios when I killed him so that I could sell it if I would to run out of drachmae. I took all the jewelry I had, you saw that, as well as my horse and anything else I could find before I left.”

“Yes. Akakios did have it on him, at one point,” he said, remembering it.

“About that gem. You have to tell me. What is it? Why do people want it? Why is it that important?”

“That gem,” he began, “is a key to an ancient vault. An ancient vault that was made by an ancient civilization. The creators of mankind who have left artifacts on the Earth and such items can give the wielder immense powers.”

She has already that talk before. From Kazem. The two of them appeared to have a common goal, but was this enough information to conclude that they were working together? “I am like Saint Thomas, father: I will not believe it until I see it. What do you want? What is in that vault, exactly? Is there an artifact hidden there?”

“There is. We are speaking of the Apple of Eden.”

Aspasia frowned.

As if he was expecting that reaction from her, her father nodded his head and sighed. “Yes. This may come as a surprise. There are many of them, in fact, because a tree does not produce just one fruit. There are rumours that Saladin wants to get his hands on one of them, but he needs the key to access the vault.”

“Saladin does not have the jewel on him, so he cannot access the vault. There. Problem solved.”

“It’s not that simple, Aspasia.”

She waved her hand, telling him to stop and to go away. “Go back to Macedonia. Jerusalem does not need you.” As she said that, his facial expression changed. He was becoming angrier with her, but she did not care - she was already angry enough with him. Now that he had found her, Aspasia did not feel safe there either. Would she need to run away once again?

“Listen to the whole story first.”

“I don’t care about the whole story. Don’t you understand that?”

“You better listen to everything, otherwise you are heading unprepared for something you cannot handle.”

She sighed, even more frustrated. “Speak, if that’s what you want, but trust me when I tell you that I will hurt you back when your back is turned. When that happens, don't act surprised.”

“Empty threats, as always. You will see that you need me, as much as I need you, and you will use me just like you use many others. No wonder everyone runs away from you.”

“SHUT UP!” She attempted to throw a punch when he caught her wrist, immobilized her on the ground, the back of her head hitting the tiles.

“Calm down, Aspasia.” He forcefully pulled her up and pushed her away, far enough that she could not hit him. Feeling her head spinning, she almost lost balance but regained stability quickly, as she dug her feet into the ground. “There is a mole in the Order of the Temple," he continued.

“A mole? And what are they after, exactly?”

“That’s the problem: we don’t know,” Aspasia’s father said, “we don’t know if they want the jewel, for themselves or for Saladin. We don’t know if they support the Sultan and his ideals or stand against the principles of the Order of the Temple. For over a few years now, there has not been any activity from that mole and yet, I cannot conclude that we got rid of them.”

She concluded: “so, what you are telling me is that we are fighting a ghost. The ghost of a ghost.” Aspasia sighed to herself. She scratched her forehead. It was hard to imagine the enemy has infiltrated the Order. Perhaps have they moved for Jerusalem, after having left Macedonia. How often did knights leave the Order from Europe to head to the Holy Land? Many of them did. In Jerusalem, they would easily find work and make money.

“You know,” her father said, this time, his tone of voice was softer, something Aspasia has never witnessed before, “if I did what I did to you, it was not my intention to hurt you but to protect you. With the mole within, I had a lot of matters on my hands. We did not speak of your mother because I believed the mole had something to do with it.”

She turned her back partially and crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s cute, that you have excuses, but you could never redeem yourself, in my eyes. My mother was my only true family.”

“I want to protect you, Aspasia, but you were making it hard. You keep getting into fights, arguing with everyone and butting heads with your superiors. When your mother left us, you were not the only one who was distraught.”

“ _Shut up_. Everything that comes out of your mouth is just crap. You never cared about her: you would have helped us more if you did. You were gone most of my childhood, I barely knew what you looked like.”

“You cannot say that I did not try to see you both. I stopped by whenever I could, Aspasia.” He was beginning to take his harsh tone again. Her father was never good at dealing with emotions, or with a grumpy young girl like Aspasia.

“If mother was not willing to welcome you back, it was for a good reason.” Her father did say that part of this could be in relation to the mole. Did her own mother know about that problem? As far as Aspasia was aware, only her father knew of this, but her mother would never speak to her about their problems, keeping her in the dark. “Please, let’s not speak of this. You know very well that I dug my heels deep enough in this and you will not be able to change my mind about this.”

“As you wish.”

And just like that, they went back to business. Aspasia always admired how her father never let his emotions affect him, almost as if he did not have any. She knew already that she would ruminate about their discussion for a long time.

“How much do you know about the politics of the Holy Land?”

“Not so much,” admitted Aspasia.

“I will keep it short,” her father said, “it is suspected that King Almaric I of Jerusalem, King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem’s father, was in the possession of the artifact we are looking for. There are rumours that he was buried with it, in the Holy Sepulchre, but the tomb was empty, last time it was opened, so it must have been taken from him.”

“Do we have any clues who could have done that?”

“There are some speculations that it could have been his first wife. That would explain why there were many quarrels between both families, however, there is no clear indication that she would even be aware of the existence of the Apple of Eden.”

He hesitated. “There is someone else. A young man who had left the Order and hoped to go to Jerusalem to carve his own path, a few years before you came. He had not told us why he left but I suspected that he knew of the existence of the artifacts and he may have come in contact with powerful people who wanted it also.”

The only other person Aspasia could suspect was Phillip. He had mentioned Saladin before he lost his memories. But how old was he, when the Apple of Eden disappeared from King Almaric I’s corpse? “When did the Apple of Eden go missing?”

“A bit more than ten years ago. Eleven years ago, to be exact.”

Aspasia was only twelve years of age, eleven years ago. She never knew Phillip’s true age but could estimate that he must have been around his thirties at this day. That would mean that he would have been around the age of eighteen or nineteen when that happened. “What is his name?”

“Phillip.” Her father answered. So, he knew him. “But I have not seen him in many years.” Of course, he hasn’t. Phillip was in Jerusalem this whole time. “Phillip must have thought he was smart enough to manipulate the Sultan of Egypt and Syria, to manipulate the Templars, and acting as a spy and a mole while working on a plan on his own.”

“So far, what you have told me is that the artifact was in the possession of King Almaric I.”

“Along with it was the key to the ISU vault – the ruby was taken too and separated from the artifact, however.”

“Do you think there is a chance that the artifact was locked in the vault and that the key was thrown away so that no one, except Phillip, could access it?”

“That’s a possibility.”

“Otherwise, we expect to find an empty vault.”

“Exactly,” confirmed Aspasia’s father, “the last time I have seen the jewel, Phillip had made a necklace on which he glued the necklace. He came back with Macedonia, with gifts, and among the gifts, the necklace with the stone. He had given it to Akakios, and at that time, even I did not know what was special about that necklace.”

“But Akakios had the jewel alone, no necklace,” Aspasia interrupted him. “Is that a bad sign? That someone else may have the necklace, and thus, know about the red gem?” Then, it crossed her mind. She remembered having seen at the neck of one of the intruders a necklace but with no jewel and instantly connected it with Phillip’s friend, Kazem. Were they working together? Or was Kazem using Phillip, and Phillip using him?

“You seem to know something,” her father pointed out. “Akakios must have thought it was a sentimental gift, not realizing that he was used to safe-keep it.”

“Where was I, when Phillip came back to Macedonia, bearing gifts?”

“He barely stayed with us long enough for you to meet him. I sent Akakios to train you out in the woods. If Phillip saw you, he would have used you against me.”

“Is he that vicious?”

Her father crossed his arms over his chest and puffed. There was a cracking sound coming from the tiles of the rooftop, beneath his weight. Of course, Phillip was that vicious; she had witnessed that herself. “He is deceitful, unpredictable and violent. That calm demeanour is just a façade, and he only cares about himself. If you ever come in contact with him, guard yourself. He is a backstabber and a user.”

Aspasia nodded her head. He did not teach her anything new. Her thoughts wandered to Phillip’s request to assassinate Tiberias. This question had been left unanswered for a long time. She tried to form a hypothesis. If the jewel was supposed to be in the Holy Sepulchre, where the previous king was buried, then it was only fair to assume that the royal family today must have known about it. Perhaps regicide was going to bring too much attention to him and killing off Tiberias was going to provide him with what he needed. It was very probable that Tiberias would have known about the royal family secrets, after all. Without Tiberias, everything around the kingdom would crumble down slowly and thus unravel many secrets.

Why would he use Aspasia specifically? He could have used any mercenary who had made its way to Jerusalem. They did not know each other previously, her father confirmed it. Did Phillip sense that she was going to be a lot of trouble? For some reason, he did, and he may have hoped that he could get rid of her also in the process. Was there any indication that Phillip still has contacts within the Order of the Temple, in Macedonia? He must have heard that she could be of use when she made her escape.

“Have you ever planned to steal the artifact yourself?” Aspasia asked her father.

“And to use it for my own goals? No, I never wanted to. I am not the one who should be in charge of such a big decision.”

“Have you explicitly told this to Phillip?”

“I may have. He was well aware that I had a family to take care of and that his methods were too forward and dangerous – the chances of success were slim. ”

“This would explain why he thought it would be best to work with Saladin in order to obtain it.”

“Aspasia,” her father hesitated, “there is something else you should know. I was reluctant about telling you because I know this is a sensitive topic, but it is important information. I suspect that Phillip had a hand in what happened to your mother.”

“W-wh-what d-do you mean?...”

“…” He paused again, this time, it was almost unbearable.

“Say something!” Aspasia demanded.

“When I refused to assist Phillip, it was a year before you joined me. He promised that achieving this would bring glory to the Order and that we could make ourselves heard among others. The Macedonian Rite was not very influential, especially since we have been part of the Byzantine Empire. He came in with big plans and promises but he was quickly shut down for logistical and I believe that did not sit well with him. He left quickly, no one has seen him this angry before. I believe he may have crossed paths with your mother when he left the camp and reached your village. When they found her, she was bleeding from severe cuts and open wounds – nothing indicative of an accident. Perhaps it was his plan to eliminate our family so that nothing would stay in our way. Or maybe he did it out of spite, simply to hurt us.”

Aspasia opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Her father looked at her, analyzing how she reacted. Normally, Aspasia would have exploded, screaming at everyone and insulting everything, in every language that she knew. Several times, she tried to say something, but no sound came. He was not sure if he was supposed to comfort her or to let her take in everything – perhaps they were not close enough for that. If he did not have a shoulder to cry on when Aspasia’s mother died, and he ended up doing good, then Aspasia was going to survive.

“Phillip did that?” she said, but her words were broken. It was as if she was asking for a confirmation or proof that he did. She wanted to see her mother’s body and take a look at the cuts, but if her father said that they did not look like an accident, but rather the result of an attack, she had no other evidence and had to take his word of it.

“Take a deep breath.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

She covered her face with her hands and tried very hard to not cry. She could sob later when he was gone, but she did not want to do it in front of him. It was of no use and it would make her look weak. She was not going to get sympathy out of this man. And at the same time, she thought about the good and the bad times she lived with Phillip. All those moments she regretted having lied to him, where she provoked him. Whenever he turned violent, it was because Aspasia had done something to him, and he had every right to be angry at her. When she broke his arm, he could not comprehend why. When she taunted him, he could not see why. And yet, so many times, he has saved her from danger, and they cooperated well. They made a formidable team when they fought, and they took care of each other. They got along well, almost just as well as she got along with Baldwin, and at times, it really felt like they were siblings.

“Maybe it was a coincidence, that he crossed mom’s path that day and he …” There was no point for her to argue about this. Accident or not, he was the one who broke their family and made their lives miserable. She was not sure if she could forgive him, but she wanted to. Could she do that, if he begged for forgiveness? _Would_ he ask for forgiveness? Is that even part of his character? She had a hundred questions that crossed her mind. Baldwin had forgiven her for her crimes and sins because he saw potential in her, that she would change for the better, but it was unclear to her if it was worth saving Phillip. He was a valuable and talented partner but was he willing to leave the past behind and change for the better? Would that not soil the memories of her mother, who suffered by his hands? She wished at that moment that Baldwin was there to give her advice. He was wiser beyond his age and he would also be willing to console her.

“Maybe you need some time to think about it. I understand if you would want to be on your own,” her father told her.

“I’m alright,” she said as firmly as she could as if to convince herself. “I only wish you would have told me this before. It is horrible to be kept in the dark for so long, and I was forming opinions and beliefs based on a reality that was not true.”

“I must head to Syria, Aspasia,” announced her father. I want to search for the ISU vault myself and see what I can find. There is someone waiting there for me, and I would ask you to come along because, at this point, you are the only one I trust.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, this chapter was a pain to write. I also had a difficult week and so this is the best that I could give. It will most likely be subject to modification and review in the future.


	48. Isu Vault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aspasia and her father head for the location of the Isu vault, with the key of the gates with them. Things take an odd turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE FOR THOSE WHO ARE NOT FAMILIAR WITH THE ASSASSIN'S CREED WORLD: This chapter contains elements that were inspired from and can be found in the video game Assassin's Creed: Origins. I have written it in such a way that anyone will understand it, whether you played the game or not, and keep in mind that Aspasia is discovering everything at the same time as you. More information and explanation about this chapter at the end.

Aspasia and her father rode on horseback to Syria, avoiding the royal guards who patrolled the perimeter of the kingdom. They got to Masyaf and instead of stopping at the oasis where Aspasia and Phillip met with Kazem.

“I must tell you that I already met Kazem in the past,” Aspasia told her father before there would be any surprises. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow, questioning her. “We started off on the wrong foot.”

“Nothing unusual there.”

“No. You don’t understand,” she clarified, “he was sent after me to assassinate me. Almost succeeded. Whenever he sees me, he becomes aggressive. I’m warning you ahead; he may not like seeing me with you and that may slow down your progress.”

Her father slowed down so that Aspasia and her horse could catch up to him. They continued advancing at a slower pace so that they could finish their discussion. “What happened exactly?” He questioned her.

“Phillip was not happy that I did not succeed at killing Tiberias, and so he sent him after me.”

“I can tell you this: he will not attack you while I am here.”

“No,” Aspasia agreed, “but I will.” Her father could not tell if it was a warning or a promise. Into the distance, behind the city, were mountains, and on top of the mountains, temples and other structures. They circled around the city, to a spot where Kazem was waiting for Aspasia’s father. Up in the sky flew an eagle. Its shriek sounded familiar. “That’s his eagle, Huma,” Aspasia informed him, “he must be nearby.”

They continued riding until the land was too steep for the horses to climb. They tied them under a tree and made sure the creatures had enough water before leaving. Aspasia and her father climbed the hill on foot, He advanced at a much faster pace than her. Seeing she had trouble carrying her bag and pushing her body up, he offered to carry her items for her. “I’m fine,” she replied. It was the first time that her father has shown kindness. Was he thinking that telling her the truth about her mother would fix everything?

“Suit yourself,” he said. And even when he carried her bag and his own, he was much faster than her. They reached a plateau above the ground, that gave a beautiful view to the city of Masyaf and the surrounding desert. There stood Kazem, dressed in clothes appropriate for mountain climbing. Huma flew above their heads and set down on Kazem’s gauntlet, its claws digging in the letter portion.

“Why did you bring her?” Kazem questioned, anger could be heard in his voice.

Aspasia frowned and smirked. He had lied to her and Phillip about not knowing who the Templars that arrived in the Holy Land were. He knew them very well, in fact, and he worked for the Grandmaster. Aspasia’s father did not miss a bit of their interaction. While she analyzed his face, she noticed his necklace without the jewel dangling at his neck. Her father followed her gaze and spotted it too. An odd thing, to have a necklace without a gem on it. There was a tacit understanding between her and her father which Kazem completely missed.

“This was not part of our agreement,” Kazem added, as he found the silence unbearable.

“Are you going to retreat, at this point? Simply because she is here?” Aspasia’s father asked Kazem.

“This _bitch_ will ruin everything for us.”

“This _bitch_ is my daughter.”

“…” Kazem bit his tongue. “It does not matter. Just wait and you’ll see.”

Aspasia’s father sighed. “I was not aware I was dealing with two children,” but he was glad Aspasia was not stupid enough to take Kazem’s bait. “Let’s be professional here; we had a deal, let’s complete it. Unless... you don’t think you are capable of doing that.”

He must have hit a sensitive nerve. Kazem froze on the spot and sent them a death glare. Aspasia tried her best not to laugh but she never knew her father could have said something like that. Kazem was put in an embarrassing position, having been caught lying by Aspasia and they were already very close to the entrance of the vault, that even if he were to go, Aspasia and her father could reach it on their own. “I’m warning you,” he points a menacing finger at Aspasia, “if I hear you say one snarky remark, I will have no problem getting rid of you.”

Aspasia looked at his index finger, as it almost touched the tip of her nose, and pretended to bite it. Kazem quickly retracted his hand and Aspasia smirked.

They followed Kazem, who lead them around the mountain. They took a path that seemed to have been recently traced, where weeds grew in an uncontrolled manner and the wind brought the dust and pebbles to cover it. They walked closer to the walls; Aspasia was especially afraid of looking down because she would get vertigo. She remained close to her father and far from Kazem, in case the latter had the bright idea of pushing her off the edge. 

The trio soon reached another level, behind the mountain and away from the city view. On the rocks were carved straight lines that did not look natural nor man-made. “This way,” indicated Kazem. Aspasia looked at the back of his head as if her stare could set him on fire. She despised him so much: not only had he lied about not knowing who were the Templar knights that were coming to Jerusalem, but he also knew the exact location of the Isu vault, and he had purposefully misled her and Phillip in their quest.

They reached a third level where the lines carved into the rocks converged. They lead to an odd structure that was never seen before. Immense shapes with an architectural style that was foreign to them. What they were facing seemed like huge gates. Aspasia looked into the carved lines, wondering what their purpose was, and if they had a meaning.

“We need the gem to head inside,” Kazem sighed, looking at the gates as if they could not do anything.

Aspasia frowned. Aspasia never told Kazem about having the gem on her. Kazem must have known about the gem and about Aspasia or Phillip having it. Aspasia, her father and Kazem had travelled a long way to get to the gates, only for Kazem to announce to them that they are stuck and they could not progress any further until they acquired the key. “Why did you make us go all this way only to tell us that?” He was trying to get Aspasia to give the red gem. Perhaps he was planning to kill her once he acquired it.

“You wanted to get to the vault,” he protested, “here it is. I completed my end of the bargain. You must now find a way to get inside on your own.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Kazem! You’ve been lying, left and right.” As they began to argue, they had gotten closer and were chest bumping. Aspasia’s father quickly interposed himself between them and attempted to separate it but Kazem would refuse to take a step back.

“ _You fucking bitch_ , I have been waiting for you to come at me so that I could have an excuse to beat you to a pulp! I don’t know how you managed to convince him that you are his sister, but Ph-“

Aspasia threw the first punch before he could finish pronouncing Phillip’s name. Kazem fell on the ground. Aspasia was ready to jump at his throat, sword in her hand, when her father pushed her back. Kazem quickly got back on his feet and charged at her. Much to her surprise, her father grabbed Kazem by the collar of his shirt and knocked him to the ground, his face hitting the soil loudly.

“You would advise you against doing that,” he told Kazem. The young man had tried to use his hidden blade, but Aspasia’s father held his foot on his hand in such a way that if Kazem were to do that, he would get the blade to go through his palm and his fingers. Aspasia kicked him in the face, much to her father’s shock, and aimed for his hand with her own hidden blade. “STOP!” Her father could not do anything to stop them. Aspasia was set on getting rid of him.

Kazem pulled away his hand and rolled on the side, Aspasia completely missing her target. “I WILL KILL YOU!” He jumps on her and pins her to the ground. They were standing at the edge of the cliff, Aspasia’s head hanging down as he attempted to choke her. Instantly, his weight was removed off of her and her father pulled Kazem aside, throwing up back.

“CALM THE FUCK DOWN,” he shouted at Kazem. It was all Aspasia needed: to know that her father was going to defend her no matter what. If there was a time to get rid of him, it was now. She got up and picked up her sword, which she had dropped, and charged at him. Kazem blocked her attack.

“You called those Templar knights to Syria to attack Phillip and I, at the oasis, right? For you to get the key from our corpse,” she spat at him, “don’t think I don’t see through you.”

“I was willing to kill you both, when I realized Phillip has changed sides.”

He wanted to slice her throat with his hidden blade when Aspasia’s father stopped him. He grabbed Kazem by the neck and smashed his head against the wall behind him. The young man began to bleed but could still stand on his own.

“We’ve got your cornered,” smirked Aspasia. Kazem realized just that. Then, both father and daughter attacked him at once, Kazem barely able to block an incoming attack while attacking them himself. Aspasia’s father made him drop his weapons, kicking them out of reach, and the swords fell off the cliff. Aspasia stepped on his hands with the hidden blades and cracked his fingers, breaking a few bones. Kazem left out a scream and began swearing at them in his mother tongue.

She lifted his upper body by his shirt and her father kicked him in the face with his knee. He was bleeding from the nose and his mouth. He looked up at Aspasia and spit at her, and she instantly smacked him across the face. “You were lucky you were with your old man, now. You would not have succeeded on your own,” Kazem chuckled, his face completely ruined.

“Were you planning to kill him off as well?”

“If I had to, yes.”

Aspasia used the butt of the sword to hit him on the head. When she let go of him, his body dropped on the floor. Was he unconscious or dead? She removed his hidden blades, his items, off of his body, and used her own sword to pierce his skull. Blood splattered all over her, and she sighed, tired and disgusted. Now Kazem was really dead, there was no doubt.

She got up and wiped her sword and hidden blade off of Kazem’s clothes. Her father sighed to himself and turned around. She looked at him, trying to discern if he was disappointed or shocked by what had happened.

It was the first time she had worked with her father, against an enemy. She had never seen him want to defend her. He never defended anyone, back in Macedonia. “I knew from the beginning that he had been lying to everyone,” she sighed.

“I can’t believe you made me do this,” her father stated.

“I didn’t make you do anything: you decided to defend me yourself.”

“No. You took this opportunity to get rid of my because you knew you could not do it on your own.”

She sighed to herself. “Yes, you are not wrong. I had to eliminate him because he was going to kill me himself when he had the chance to.”

Her father turned to face her: “you both spoke about Phillip. What was that?”

She scratched the back of her neck. This whole time, she had tried to hide to her father that she allied herself with him, to protect herself and to learn more about the red gem. “He was caught, and he was about to be executed. Due to a head trauma, he lost his memories and I had to keep him alive, so I managed to convince him that I am his sister.”

“His sister?”

“Yes, that’s what I said,” she replied. Her father squinted his eyes and nodded slowly. Aspasia gave him an awkward and quizzical smile and nodded her head too. Did he think that her plan was odd? “It worked,” she tried to convince me, “he did not allow Kazem to attack me. I would not be alive today if it wasn’t for him.”

“Be careful, Aspasia,” her father said, “you know more now today than you did before. After what he did to your mother, he could easily do that to you.”

“Right.”

She did not want to think about that at the moment. With Kazem’s corpse in front of them, they pushed him out of the way and focused their attention to the giant gates in front of them. “Has no one ever noticed them before?” Aspasia asked.

“This region is known for it’s sandstorms and we are very high in altitude, so perhaps this is how it has gone unnoticed.”

“It’s true. Very few people would venture this far, just for the sake of going on an adventure.”

She took out the red gem and wiped it off of the dirty and sweat. They approached the door, and inside it was a small crevice, about the size of a fist. Aspasia blew air inside it, removing the sand that had accumulated there, and placed the gem inside. She blindly moved it around, trying to adjust it, when suddenly, a cracking sound was heard, as if an old and rusted mechanism was put into motion.

She took a step back, standing next to her father, and they watched the doors open slowly. Sand and dirt that had set on top were blown away by the wind, some of it landing on them. They both raised their hands above their face to prevent it from getting into their eyes and mouth. The doors finally opened completely, reveling inside a hallway that seemed to stretch out into infinity.

“We might need a torch, to be able to see inside,” Aspasia said.

“Your eyes will adjust to the dark. Come.”

She followed her father, uncertain about that. As they stepped inside, the gates closed behind them. Aspasia’s gaze travelled from the gate to her father’s face. The carved lines had taken up a bright color, like a pale blue, and partially illuminated the cave. The two of them stood on their spot for a brief moment, taking in everything. “We have never seen something like this before, back in Europe,” her father said, “and I have travelled throughout Macedonia, Greece and the Byzantine Empire all my life.”

“Who could have built such a place? This is much bigger than any royal palace. What kind of blacksmith could do such a work?” For the first time, Aspasia wanted to learn about the ISU, the civilization that came before humans, and who apparently had created mankind. How many people knew about them, in this age? If Baldwin’s own father knew about them, did he too?

They traversed that long hallway. The ceiling was so high that they could barely see it. When they reached the end, they looked down and saw that there was a pool of water, and they would have to jump to get to it. It would be a high jump and there was no way to know how deep the water is and how they would get out, if there was no exit there.

“How are we going to know if it’s safe to jump?” Aspasia asked.

“Are you scarred?”

“What? No!” lied Aspasia.

“This is just like practice. Back in Macedonia, where you would jump at the bottom of a lake and bring back an item. This is just on a larger scale.”

She was not reassured. She removed a necklace, one which she had bought back from the merchant, to test how far they would fall. Her father was about to stop her when she said: “don’t worry. You said it was just like practice, when I would jump in a lake and bring back items from the bottom. I will bring it back.”

She threw the necklace and listened. It hit the water after many seconds. They both walked to the edge, and Aspasia sighed. Now was not the time to be afraid. Her father pushed her and jumped right after her. She braced herself for the impact, and soon was swallowed entirely by the cool water, from head to toe. She reached the bottom, and found her necklace had sunk, and was now on a rock. She picked it up and reached back the surface.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she told her father as she pushed her hair out of her face. She placed the necklace back on her neck, happy to have found it. “These rocks are not normal. They are perfectly rectangular. They look like blocks that were used for the structure instead. Were the ISU giants?”

Her father kept his head above the water, floating. “This is the first time I see such a place,” he admitted, “we will learn more as we go. The ISU were taller, stronger and more intelligent than humans, but not giants like you might believe. We must continue advancing. There should be an exit, somewhere.”

He took a plunge and was completely submerged by the water. Aspasia caught her breath and followed her father. Carved lines beneath the water seemed to light up the way. They made their way in water-filled tunnels, Aspasia slid her body between the rocks with much more ease than her father, who had more mass and was bigger in size. When they reached another cave, connected to the entrance, Aspasia realized she could no longer hold her breath. She poked her head out of the water and began to spit out the water she had swallowed.

“That must be it.”

The cave they have reached resembled the previous one in many ways, with the ceiling so high that it could not be seen, and blocks that were scattered around, like bricks. In the center, stones were set in the ground in a circular shape. They were flat and thin, with lines passing through them. From above, there was a ray of light that it a silver plate about the size of a person.

The got out of the pool, water dripping out of their clothes and hair. As they walked toward the giant stones, more sand and dust accumulated. “Not even the ancient Greeks or Persian could build such a thing. This is … I am at a loss for words,” Aspasia commented. “What are we expecting to find? The Apple of Eden? A treasure?”

She walked to one stone and touched its surface, not sure what to expect. Between them, on the ground, was a diagram that was unknown to them. All the lines that were carved converged there. It looked like a map of sorts, pointing at a direction. Was it a map of the land, or directing anyone who came to the exit?

“Let’s move the mirrors, maybe that will set everything in motion.” Aspasia suggested.

And so, they did that. Together, they turned the mirrors, directing the ray of sunlight from one mirror to the other. It took them a lot of strength to do that as the metal that allowed the silver plates to move had rusted and moved with difficulty due to the lack of use. Finally, they directed the last mirror to the one that was tied to the ceiling. From there, it went from the ceiling to the floor, and the light hit the center of the circular diagram.

What happened after that was like magic. The whole light spread through the diagram and the dust seemed to raise in the air. It floated above their heads, forming an image that was seem in three dimensions. It depicted a mural, done in an art style that appeared to be ancient. There were some characters, holding an unrecognizable object. Then, the image turned into a globe, with various motifs and patches on it.

“What does it represent?” Aspasia asked. Her father would most likely not know the answer to that. “How could the ISU make this? With what?” The patterns on the globe began to catch her attention. “That spot right there,” she pointed with her index finger, “looks like the Black Sea. And that, over there, looks like Cyprus, and that, Italy. What does that mean?” The ancient Greeks have spoken of the Earth being round, and made estimates of its size, but that theory has been dismissed for ages. Aspasia did not know what to think. She looked at her father, trying to see what he was thinking, but his expression was impermeable, as always. Whether he was preoccupied by the globe or not, it was not shown.

Aspasia tried to touch the globe, but it was only made of light. Suddenly, there was almost a change in the atmosphere. The lights flickered a bit and an unknown female voice spoke:

_Retransmission. Segment 3. Acquiring Contemporaneity.  
It has been 30 days since the Great Catastrophe. The messenger speaks._

Aspasia jumped behind.

_What is reality? Is it our sensations and perceptions? Our interpretation of those sensations and perceptions? What we see is truly what it is? How can we trust what we see? Our senses can deceive us at times._

The voice spoke in Macedonian, as if it knew who was going to listen to it. It did not make sense to Aspasia, who knew that the inhabitants of the land spoke Arabic and other local languages such as Persian or Turkish. If it was an ancient civilization, did it not have its own language?

_Is reality the same whether one is part of it or absent of it? The Earth will continue to spin, whether one is alive or dead. But will life be the same, in the absence of one single being? Or will that being’s purpose be fulfilled by someone else who was chosen to replace them?_

“Is this voice from the past? Who does it belong to?” Aspasia questioned.

_Are we bound to make certain discoveries? To create new technology? To eradicate diseases?_

“Why are you being quiet??” she almost shouted, but her father paid no attention to her.

_Are emotions simply a reflection of reality? Are emotions the product of reality?_

She tried to make sense of the messages. Were they speaking to her directly? They seemed to assume that the listener knew specific things. Was its purpose to push for the advancement of mankind or to provide with valuable information?

_From your point in history, you still have a lot to learn. Don’t take anything you know for granted. To your untrained eyes, you may perceive something to be the Truth when in fact, it is not. We, the ISU, are always one step ahead. We see things from a different perspective, with more insight. You, however, will struggle to give this meaning. Everything is relative. With time, you will gain more knowledge. You will learn about the beginning of the human race, why it came to be, how your fate is intertwined with our own._

_Others will not be open to change and progress._

The voice broke and various sounds were said but they were incomprehensible. The globe that floated above the diagram disappeared, as well as the remaining lights.

←→

Outside, the sun was setting down. It was time for each of them to follow their own path – Aspasia would have to return to camp and find Phillip there. Above them flew Huma, almost like it was awaiting its master.

“I will keep her,” Aspasia told her father. She raised her hand with the hidden blade and whistled for the bird to come. Majestically, it obeyed her, sitting on the gauntlet. The claws scared her slightly, but she was impressed by the beauty of the eagle. Its sharp eyes looked almost human and quite feminine. Aspasia searched her bag for some food and found a piece of bread which she had eaten earlier, when she had lunch with that little orphan, Arwa. She threw it at the bird, afraid that if she hand-fed it, it would bite her hand by accident. The bird caught it in its beak and began to eat it.

“You will be heading to meet with Phillip now,” her father said.

“Yes.”

“This is a bad idea. Now that you’ve acquired everything that you want – you know what the red stone is, what it does, where the ISU vault is – you don’t need him anymore.”

“You don’t understand,” Aspasia waved her arm, forcing the bird to fly away, “I cannot just disappear on him like that. As long as he is alive, no one is safe. And I cannot kill him on my own – his strength surpasses mine.”

“Those are just excuses,” her father sighed, “I think you just got attached to him, now.”

She swallowed her saliva with difficulty. He was right. She had begun to truly feel like he was a brother to her. She thought about running away from all this, never mentioning to him his past crimes, because when he lost his memories, he started a new life. It would keep Baldwin, Sibylla, Tiberius and everyone else safe, but it would be something very unfair to do. There was a bit of hope in her that even if he regained his memories, he would feel sorry for his actions and redeem himself. She thought about what Baldwin said about him. The King was good at judging people’s character, and he did not see any good in Phillip, when he saw good in Aspasia. Could she rely on his judgement or form an opinion of her own?

“I promised him, before he lost his memories, that I was going to be the one to kill him,” she stated, “and I will do that.”

He probably wanted to say something, but he could see that his daughter was not open to his advice. She would not take it, in any case. It felt odd for him to hear his own daughter speak of murder.

“Aspasia.”

“What?”

“Don’t… Get yourself in more danger than necessary. Especially when you are on your own, with Phillip.”

“This is exactly what I was planning to do.”

She watched her father climb on his horse. He nodded his head at her and said: “I will need you, in a few days time, to meet me somewhere. The Templars here are creating chaos, more than anything, and I want to resolve some personal business here. I will find a way to reach you.”

“What kind of personal business?”

“Well,” he said, “to tell you the truth, it is related to everything we have been discussing. We accessed to the vault and listened to a recorded message by the Isu, and now we have to seek the Apple of Eden, as well as find the mole among the Templars.”

“The mole was Phillip. And Kazem.”

“… Not exactly.”

Aspasia frowned.

“You see, things were already in motion while Kazem and Phillip were in the Holy Land. We have our own enemies at home.”

“I am sorry, but this is your problem to deal with,” Aspasia sighed, “I do not intend on ever going back.”

“The Apple of Eden is my priority,” her father told her, “and I am led to believe that Saladin may have it with him, but he cannot use it. I think it also required the red stone, which we used to open the gate.”

“And you plan on meeting with him in Egypt?”

“No. I plan on forcing him to come and meet with me.”

There was something in his eyes that terrified Aspasia. Her father was an excellent strategist. He may be a nobody to Saladin at that moment, but he promised he would get the Sultan to want to speak with him.

“I am curious to know what you have planned.”

He nodded his head. “All in due time. Like I said,” the horse was agitated for a bit, but Aspasia’s father stabilized it, “I will find a way to reach you, in a few days. You can go about, live your life as normally as possible, in the meantime.” Having said that, he finished by saying ‘take care’ and rode off, in the distance.

His figure, on the horse, disappeared into the horizon. He left Masyaf, and Aspasia climbed on hers when she knew she was truly alone. She sent one last look at the mountain: from where she stood, she could see the path she had taken to climb it, and behind it was the vault. Then, she directed the horse in the direction of the camp, and soon, she found the familiar campfire already prepared. Phillip, who was doing his own activities throughout the day, was seated on a wooden log, and had already prepared food.

When she arrived there, she tied her horse to a tree and joined him. “How was your day?” he asked her.

She simply nodded her head.

“Someone is in a bad mood,” he chuckled. “Here, I caught some leben. It’s … similar to kefir? You will like it.”

“No, I’m fine,” she refused politely. “I will go to sleep, if you don’t mind – I’m very tired.”

She laid in her corner, back to Phillip, and pulled the covers over her. Her conversation with her father on the rooftops of Jerusalem came back to her mind. She began, for the first time, to feel everything, and all at once: the anger, the sorrow, the shame, the hatred. She tried to find inside herself the will to forgive him. She could not trust him that he would not hurt her, but as long as they remained friends, she was safe. All the worries Baldwin had, with her being in Phillip’s proximity without anyone else made sense to her. She could never admit that to him, it would make her look stupid, she believed. Her emotions were conflicted because Phillip has shown himself to be a reliable partner in fight and a caring brother and at the same time, he was her mother’s murderer, the man who destroyed their family.

She sensed movement behind her. “Hey, are you crying, sister?”

Phillip placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and gave it a soft and reassuring squeeze.

She lied to him and forced herself to smile: “I’m fine. I guess I was.”

“If you want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”

“It’s fine. Let’s just sleep.”

“Alright.”

Phillip moved back to his original spot.

“You are the best brother I could ask for,” she added. To that, Phillip chuckled, bashful. It was partially a truth and partially a lie. He was in fact the best person she could think of to want as a brother. They communicated well, they were synchronized in their fights and seemed to function on the same wavelength. There was a lot Aspasia could learn from him. He provided good advice and was a good shoulder to cry on. And at the same time, while their relationship progressed, secrets surfaced and revealed unfavourable circumstances.

Baldwin would have been very angry at her to hear her say this, but her anger for what Phillip had done to her fueled her even more, and she was convinced that she had to be the one to kill him. She just needed the perfect moment to strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The recording is the 'segment 3' which implies that there are other segments, and thus, other vaults scattered around the region. For the sake of this story, we will not dive too deep into the other segments because they are not important for the development of the plot or the characters.
> 
> \- Each segment that exists addresses a certain topic. I have chosen to address the topic of perception/sensation vs reality. In these messages, the Isu leave clues about the future, the past, the Great Catastrophe (this event is cited in the AC universe timeline, look it up if you want more information) which explains why some things are not clear for the character.
> 
> \- The recording was the voice of Minerva (again, she is a character in the AC universe, if you want more information, look her up.)
> 
> \- The recording are in Macedonian for Aspasia and her father because it is their native tongue. I have decided to say that the recording will be given to the listener in their native language, which means that if Kazem were to listen to it, it would be in Arabic. I don't know how the AC universe dealt with this question, but this is how I decided to work about it.
> 
> \- The last part, with the incomprehensible sounds, is a message that is said backwards. That too is an element you will find in the video game, but it does not matter for Aspasia and for the plot, and so I will not expand on it.
> 
> Do you have any more questions? Feel free to ask me in the comment section.


	49. Saladin's Sister

As promised, days later, Aspasia’s father got in contact with her. While she was out in the city, he appeared in the shadows, hiding from the crowd and called for her. When she recognized him, she followed him into a small alley. There, he opened a bag in front of her and pulled out of it a familiar white cloak with a red cross. “My old uniform,” she stated, inspecting the garment. It was in perfect condition. Clean, the red in the cross has not faded, and there were no holes in the fabric. With it came a breastplate, mail and helmet. She never thought she would see it again, and even less, having to wear it again.

He nodded his head and added: “I know you said you quit the Order, but I would need you to wear it one last time.”

“Where are we going? Why do you need me to wear this?”

He looked slightly bothered by all her questions. “There is a man who was released from prison, Reynald de Chatillon. I managed to bail him out by paying for his release, and I ordered him to raid a Muslim caravan for us. You will see when we get there that it is no ordinary Muslim caravan.”

Aspasia froze. A knot formed inside her chest. “This isn’t good.” She thought about Baldwin and the amount of trouble he went through just to secure peace in his kingdom, last time Reynald and Guy attacked Muslim pilgrims. They were jeopardizing the political stability of the kingdom, and if Baldwin went to war again, there was no guarantee he would survive.

“What?” her father asked her, perplexed by her state of shock.

“This isn’t right.”

“You are in no position to lecture me about what is right or wrong, Aspasia, especially after I was forced into killing Kazem just to keep you alive.”

It was true, but still… She hated the idea of being part of the problem, especially if said problem created more problems for Baldwin to fix.

“Meet me outside the South city gates when you are ready.” Having said that, her father left her. She watched him disappear and looked down at the Templar uniform. Bad memories were associated with it, of missions and training sessions. Putting it on once again was comparable to a snake that put back on a layer of dead skin that it just shed. All of this was part of her father’s plan to get Saladin to him. If it worked, it would mean that they could solve this issue amongst themselves, without having to involve Baldwin.

She put on the uniform and prayed that his plan worked.

When she was finally ready, she joined her father at the place of their meeting. She found him standing underneath a tree, two horses nearby. When she saw her, he passed her the reins of one of them. “Where are we riding?” Aspasia asked.

“Towards Egypt. There is a place past Ascalon and past the Dead Sea, where we are supposed to meet with the others. This will be a long trip. Are you ready?”

“Ready.”

“Good.”

They climbed on the horses and rode away. The traversed the hot desert during the worst time of the day when the sun was up in the sky. There was no place to stop, except for rare villages that followed the road. Many caravans come from the opposite direction, with Muslim pilgrims heading to their holy sites.

Hours later, they diverted away from the path into the desert. They crossed a few dunes, where there was absolutely nothing to be found. And finally, in the very distance, they saw an oasis. Greenery and water underneath some palm trees. “We must hurry!” Aspasia’s father said, breaking the silence. They advanced much quickly, and they saw that in the fields of tall grass were standing people, in familiar with and red uniforms. Many were Frankish Templar knights, holding their swords in their hands, while Muslim men laid on the ground, most probably dead. Aspasia cursed under her breath. All of this was part of her father’s plan to lure Saladin in, but did they have to waste all these lives? Was it a good idea to trust Reynald to do a clean job? He would most likely going to kill for sport - kill more people than necessary, as if to compensate for the time lost in prison.

As they neared them, many heads turned into their direction. They saw the Grandmaster of the Macedonian Rite, and another Templar knight with him. “Ermis! Glad to see you came! And just in time!” Reynald exclaimed.

Aspasia’s father climbed off his horse and joined him, Aspasia following nearby. No one paid attention to her because while she was wearing the mask, she did not look like she was important. “I hope you respected our agreement,” Aspasia’s father said to him in a severe tone.

“Of course, who do you think I am? I am Reynald de Chatillon!” boasted the man. Aspasia scrutinized him: he looked as red as usual; most likely because of physical effort and due to the sun, and not the alcohol, this time. His half-dyed red hair and his uniform stained in red. “You know, what you asked me to do, it would be causing me a lot of trouble, but there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for the very man who got me out of prison…” He gave Aspasia’s father an amicable pat on his chest, almost forgetting that the two of them were not exactly buddies. Then, with his index finger, he pointed at a figure who stood in the tall grass. Aspasia and her father turned their heads and the veiled figure. Whoever it was, they had their back turned on them. The clothes were all black, but they could and hear the dangling jewelry. “You wanted her? She’s all yours.”

“Aspasia,” her father called her. With a head gesture, he instructed her to follow him.

“Aspasia??” Reynald asked, surprised that Ermis would refer to the knight using a woman’s name. Aspasia took off her helmet and threw it at Reynald to catch it and hold it for her, then grinned. He became even redder as if he was recollecting having met her at Kerak when the King whipped him.

Aspasia followed her father as they approached the woman, but they stopped ten feet away, realizing that she was praying. Perhaps she was thinking that she was going to die that very same day. The father and daughter looked at each other, thinking the same thing; they would have to speak in Macedonian in front of her, for there was a possibility that this woman has learned Greek and could understand them. “Who is she?” Aspasia asked her father, almost in a whisper.

“She’s Saladin’s sister. We don’t want her dead. She must be kept alive at all costs if we want to negotiate with the Sultan.”

A few moments later, there was silence. Despite having finished her prayer, Saladin’s sister kept her back turned. Aspasia looked at her, then at her father, as if she was expecting him to do or say something. “Should I talk to her?” Aspasia offered. She was not sure why she did that. It was very likely that the two of them would not be able to communicate at all. Perhaps she was not even willing to speak to Aspasia.

The latter tried to approach her. She stood two feet behind the Sultan’s sister and placed a hand on her shoulder when the woman suddenly flung a dagger in her direction. At the very last moment, Aspasia moved to the side. She grabbed the dagger with her two hands and threw it far away in the distance. Saladin’s sister left out a cry and Aspasia smacked her across the face. The woman fell on her back and tried to crawl away when her feet got tangled with the fabric of her clothes.

Aspasia looked down at her hand and sighed, surprised to realize that she cut herself when she grabbed that dagger and there was blood rolling down her arm. “That’s not fun,” she sighed. She quickly wrapped it up in a piece of fabric and brought her attention back to the woman. She looked terrified out of her mind. It was brave of her to try to defend herself, while she was surrounded by the enemy.

Aspasia’s father approached them, but quickly, Aspasia got between him and the woman. “Let me handle her,” she insisted and forced the woman to stand up on her feet. She tied her hands and pushed her to walk, as the other knights picked up their items and looted the corpses.

“We will send for a messenger to warn Saladin. In the meantime, we will set camp here, and wait for him to come back,” said Ermis to the knights. He then appointed the knight who spoke Arabic the best to cross the border to Egypt. With him, that knight took the dagger as proof that she is captive. While the knights set camp, Aspasia remained near the woman to keep an eye on her. She was going to be safe among them, but she feared that she would free herself and take off.

←→

Evening came, the sun was beginning to set, and the sky was progressively getting darker, but the messenger was not back yet. The Templar knights had set camp and prepared a fire. Reynald and his men were eager to go but for an unknown reason, Aspasia’s father insisted that they stayed. While most of the knights gathered around the fire, her father remained on the outskirts, looking into the distance.

Aspasia had taken part of her armour off. She looked in the direction of her father, who would occasionally send a glance at the knights, and then divert his attention back to the drylands that spread out, in the direction of Egypt. She joined him, with her weapon still attached at her hip. “The fact that the messenger is not back yet is a bad sign,” she said.

“Not necessarily.”

Aspasia paused. She would have contradicted him, but Aspasia knew that her father was good at his job. He would not have sent someone to meet with Saladin if he knew that their life would have been spilled for nothing.

“In that case,” she continued, “why are we allowing Reynald’s men to drink if ever there was a fight?”

Her father looked over his shoulder to see Reynald. Beside him, his men were taking out waterskins that contained alcohol – who knew where they had gotten that wine from. “Let them. If Reynald gets drunk before Saladin arrives, he will not even understand what is happening and that will be to our benefit.”

Aspasia sent Saladin’s sister a look – the woman laid her head against the bark of the palm tree and had her eyelids almost shut. With the hot weather, Aspasia frequently went to her to offer her some water and food, but the woman had refused her generosity on many occasions. Did she understand what was going on? That the Sultan would do anything to bring her back home, and that, for this, no harm was going to come to her? Aspasia’s father seemed to notice that the woman was not drinking nor eating, and so he told Aspasia: “let her do as she pleases. If she won’t eat nor drink, that’s her problem.” Of course, he would not understand the pity Aspasia had for her. If it were Sibylla in that position, Aspasia would have hated that.

Not far from them stood two knights, laughing among themselves, and occasionally looking at the princess. The alcohol has gotten to them very quickly. Now that their own master had drunk and that it was night, they thought all was permitted. “Knock it off!” she spat at them.

“Shut up!”

He picked up a helmet that has been dropped on the ground and threw it in Aspasia’s direction. She dodged it and almost took out her sword when her father intervened.

“Slow down,” he warned her, getting in her path.

“He provoked me!”

“Don’t tell me that you’re that big of an idiot, to respond to every provocation.”

She pushed his hands away and sent that drunk knight a death glare. He was right; there was no point in responding to every attack.

“How about you go to check on …” and with a head gesture, her father motioned to the princess. Aspasia did not wait another second. Anything to avoid these men. Part of her was glad these were not the knights from Macedonia, for they all knew her and her antics. But these knights, under the command of Reynald and Guy, were exactly like their masters. With Reynald calling the shots.

The princess was almost asleep, probably deep in her thoughts, when Aspasia offered to feed her. She brought the food to her mouth, as her hands were tied behind her back. Aspasia did not speak to her more than necessary – she was not there to make a friend. She assumed the princess would have wanted to ask questions, about what they planned to do and what they wanted from Saladin, but there was this language barrier between them.

When Saladin’s sister had finished eating, Aspasia left her. She got up and found a different spot where to sit. It was progressively getting darker and Aspasia grew tired. She could count on her father to wake her up if anything happened. She laid against another palm tree and rested her head back. Over time, she managed to ignore entirely the sound of Reynald and his knights laughing and singing into the night.

What seemed like an eternity passed when Aspasia woke up a bit from her trance-like state. Something had caught her attention and it was not the knights. She had gotten used to the sounds Saladin’s sister was making, shifting in her position, adjusting her legs and maybe sighing from time to time. It had gotten very quiet, on her side.

Aspasia jumped from her sleep, afraid that something had happened. Hasn’t her father noticed? She looked in the direction of the woman and found her standing on her knees, quietly dropping the ropes that previously kept her tied. “NICE TRY!” she shouted.

All eyes turned on Aspasia, who was previously asleep. Upon realizing that she was caught, the princess’s eyes opened like saucers, and she got up to run. Aspasia did not miss a beat: she stood up on her feet and began to chase after her. The princess almost tripped, her feet getting tangled in the fabric of her clothes, and the sand making her escape more difficult.

Other knights began to follow them. Aspasia quickly caught up the princess and jumped on her. She managed to grab her by the ankle and prevent her from running away. The princess began shouting, and Aspasia climbed on top of her, pinning her to the ground and attempting to muffle her voice: “betcha thought you could escape quietly,” Aspasia sneered, only angering Saladin’s sister more. The princess began to shout in Arabic, most likely profanities.

Other knights caught up to them and Aspasia feared that, in the drunken state that they were, would not hesitate to beat Saladin’s sister. Aspasia’s father got there as well, and forcefully pulled Saladin’s sister on her two feet. Aspasia followed him, pushing past the other knights.

“We’ll tie her with metal shackles as well,” Aspasia’s father said in Macedonian for only Aspasia to hear.

As they were about to tie the princess once again to the palm tree, a small light glimmered in the distance. There was a sigh of relief coming from Saladin’s sister.

“Untie her now,” Aspasia’s father added, in Macedonian.

“Yes. Obviously. Don’t keep telling me what to do.”

Her father completely ignored her. The princess was once again forcefully pulled on and stood on her own feet. In the distance, that glimmer of light got bigger, and after some time, three horsemen could be seen in the distance. Among these men was the messenger. The horses approached the camp, and before them stood the Sultan. His eyes travelled from Aspasia’s father to Aspasia herself. His eyes wavered a bit when he recognized her familiar face, but then he set his gaze on his sister.

“I have come to take her back,” Saladin said, anger clear in his voice.

“Get off your horse and let us speak,” Ermis invited him. It was equally aggressive, nothing like an amicable invitation. The Sultan was accompanied by his guard and Ermis led them by the fire. “Don’t worry, nothing has happened to her, I made sure of it,” Ermis added. It was clear that Saladin’s sister was going to remain with Aspasia.

The two women took a seat by Aspasia’s father’s side.

“I do not like it when people threaten to harm my own blood just to get an audience with me, but it appears that I have no other choice,” Saladin said, “so what is it that you want to talk about?”

Ermis looked over to his daughter. The tension was rising. If Saladin was not to comply or provide answers, Aspasia would have to deal with his sister, and no one wanted to get to that point. “We wanted to speak to you about something very few people know about. It has to do with the ISU vaults and the Apple of Eden.”

The princess suddenly jumped and shouted something at her brother, as if to prevent him from saying anything. Aspasia tightened her grip around her neck, and she kept very quiet afterwards.

“Indeed…” Saladin spoke, “very people are supposed to know about that.”

“You had a young man work for you, did you not? You signed a contract with him, for him to provide you with the Apple of Eden.”

“The man did not provide me with the Apple of Eden. The artifact was already in my possession. I paid for him to bring me the jewel.”

“Why would you need the jewel?” Ermis asked.

“Because the artifact on its own seems to be incomplete. I have studied it for years and attempted to get it to work but the jewel was once part of the Apple, and so, it acted almost like a piece of a puzzle.”

Aspasia thought about the jewel. It came as a surprise to her that it served two purposes – opening the gates of the vault and activating the Apple of Eden. If what Saladin was saying was the truth, it meant that someone had purposefully ripped the ruby out of the Apple of Eden so that anyone who found it could not use it. Could it have been Almaric I, the previous king of Jerusalem who had done that, knowing that Saladin would try to take it away from him? Or was it Phillip himself, who wished to be a thorn in Saladin’s side and keep the Apple for himself?

“Was the ruby ever in your possession?” Aspasia asked, out of the blue.

Saladin looked at her, eyes squinting, his gaze almost venomous. He remembered Aspasia as the brat who wanted to speak to him on the battlefield. “Yes, but never at the same time as I had the Apple. Someone had stolen it from me.”

He then began to explain that he knew he needed to have with him both the ruby and the Apple of Eden for it to work. He hired a young man from Syria to acquire for him the Apple. This young man was capable to bring back the Apple to the Sultan, in Egypt, but the stone had gone missing at around the same time. It was unclear if, at the time, the young man knew the importance of both pieces. Saladin suspected that this young man had also made a contract with a third party who could acquire for him the pieces, for a cheap price to pay.

Aspasia immediately thought of Kazem and wondered if the third party was Phillip. Kazem knew everything there was to know about the stone, but maybe he learned that much later after Saladin had made him an offer? Could Phillip have known everything about the Apple of Eden and decided to manipulate Kazem into him bringing him the red stone? Phillip had a keen eye and could easily spot, in a crowd, the people who were weak, those who were gullible, and those who were seeking a purpose in their life: the same way he spotted Aspasia when she was looking for work, he also spotted Kazem, who was tasked to accomplish an important mission.

A few days ago, when Aspasia met with her father, he told her that the Tree gives many fruits. Could there be another Apple that was part of the equation? And could the same stone work on many different artifacts? “Kazem hired a Greek man to do this,” Aspasia announced Saladin, “and I have killed Kazem. I am sorry to tell you this, but Kazem was also played by that Greek man, who wanted to obtain from him the Apple. In the end, the pieces were scattered around the world so that only him – and I am referring to this Greek man – would know where they are located, pick them up and rebuild the artifact.”

“That was my hypothesis,” Saladin acknowledged, “unfortunately, there is no way for me to make the Apple work without the ruby. I have tried similar stones, I had a jeweller shape a ruby in the shape I need but nothing works, not even the purest forms of precious stones. For now, I shall guard it safely so that no one will use it to do harm.”

There was a lot of material to digest and discuss. Aspasia had not previously imagined that Saladin and Phillip were linked like this. Phillip must have had a plan to acquire the Apple from him, or perhaps he knew the location of another Apple and hoped to connect the pieces later. Kazem may have been just another one of his victims. Saladin had made the grave mistake of not emphasizing enough the importance of the jewel, otherwise, Kazem would not have traded it for the Apple with Phillip. It seemed to Aspasia that, at this point, the jewel itself was far more valuable than the Apple of Eden.

Aspasia sent her father a glance, and the man nodded his head at her. With that signal, Aspasia pushed the princess back to her brother, who welcomed her with open arms and checked on her to see if she is healthy. Their guard prepared their horses and Saladin led his sister to the black mustang and helped her climb it.

While they had this conversation, Reynald and his men had sat on the ground, in the background, not bothering them. Saladin looked at them, analyzing their behaviour, and looked at Ermis. “These are your knights?” he was almost mocking him.

“No. This over there,” he pointed at the red-haired man who had pink cheeks and could barely stand on his own, “is the man who raided your caravans on multiple occasions. Please, feel free to deal with him and his knights as you pleased.” And Ermis took out the sword of his scabbard and placed it in the Sultan’s hands. The latter looked at the weapon, and at the Grandmaster.

“I will not play into this game of yours. I shall deal with this issue with the King himself.”

Aspasia chuckled quietly. Her father had tried to pressure Saladin into getting rid of Reynald, but it did not work. That was the most perfect opportunity for Saladin to do that, perhaps this chance would never come again, and he was refusing to fall for the trap.

“Alright,” Ermis agreed, “it’s your choice.”

He took back the sword and marched toward Reynald. The lord, focusing and squinting very hard just to see what was happening, mumbled something incomprehensible at Ermis when suddenly, Aspasia’s father began slashing with his sword their necks. He took out Reynald first, blood splattering everywhere. It got on the clothes of the knight laying next to him. He got up and realized what was the warm liquid that had gotten on him, and his neck was sliced as well. Then a third one, and a fourth one. Two tried to run away, but they were sluggish, and their limbs lacked coordination. Ermis picked up a bow from the ground, the weapon had been looted from the Muslim corpses left behind, and began shooting arrows at them, aiming precisely for the back of their neck, an exposed area.

Aspasia remained in a state of shock. She wanted the bodies drop like flies. The camp was covered in pools of blood, contaminating the soil and the oasis. Ermis used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off of his brow. Saladin’s sister emanated a gasp and covered her eyes with her hand.

Saladin sighed. “I suppose that now, that you have whipped out the enemy, there is nothing left for me to do.”

“You will have to deal with Guy,” Ermis said, approaching them, at a slow and menacing pace, “sooner or later. I, at least, will not have to deal with Reynald and his men, who have been a pain in the arse, preventing me from accomplishing anything with my own men, ever since I have set foot in the Holy Land. Now leave, before I decide to deal with you as well.”

With that threat, Saladin’s guard tried to get between them to protect his master, but Saladin stopped him. He instructed him, in Arabic, to get on his horse and leave. He must have realized that, as long as his sister was there, it was not a good idea to fight Ermis and Aspasia. They got on their horses and turned around. They galloped into the distance, leaving Ermis and Aspasia behind, at camp.

Without saying a word, Aspasia’s father began to pick up his items and prepare his horse. Too afraid to speak and in shock, Aspasia looted the bodies, filling her pockets with several coins, and searched through what the knights had gathered from the Muslims, in the caravan. She sent a look over her shoulder, to see what her father was doing. It appeared that he did not mind leaving her behind – after all, she had her own horse and he was done with her.

Still, after giving in some thought, she said: “you needed me here just to deal with Saladin and Reynald, no? In case things took a turn.”

“Yes,” he said, straddling his horse, “and you needed information about the Apple of Eden and about Phillip.”

“Now, our business transaction is done. So Kazem was hoping to make money by working for Saladin as a spy, and he was found by Phillip who offered to help him, in exchange of a small, seemingly unimportant, ruby, and Kazem got on board with the plan of … playing a trick on the most powerful general in the world today, Saladin. No one will know what Phillip had told Kazem.”

“Once Phillip is out of the picture, the world will know peace.”

“What do you mean?” Aspasia asked, “have you planned on killing him too?”

“… “ her father paused, “would you feel safe knowing that he is in prison and could escape at any time? His death is the only solution. Of course, I want to see him gone after all he has done to Dafne, your mother.”

Aspasia did not know why she was getting protective of Phillip all of the sudden. She too wanted to see him dead. Still, she thought that maybe she needed more time with him, to be able to forgive him for his action. If he ever got his memories back, would he feel apologetic for what he has done? Was there a chance that he was going to redeem himself? Aspasia had other people on who she could rely on: Baldwin, and if she apologized, also Sibylla, Tiberius, Balian. Her father, Ermis, had no one who could mourn with him, and so his desire to kill Dafne’s killer blinded his judgement. She was too afraid to openly contradict him at that instant after he had killed Reynald and his men without batting an eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I am glad to finally let you know that, at this point in the story, we pretty much know everything about the stones, the artifacts, the ISU, Phillip's plan and Aspasia's family history. The other Apples that the protagonist mention is her own personal hypothesis, and in the AC universe, they do exist, only that in this story, they will not make an appearance! Thank you for having read this far! I hope you enjoyed it!


	50. This Is Not A Goodbye Yet

After meeting with Saladin, Aspasia managed to make her way back to Jerusalem and go to another Hospital in the city where she could sleep. Morning came and the Hospital became agitated by people coming in and going out, nurses managing the patients and the travellers. At around noon, the bells of a nearby church began ringing and Aspasia had barely slept but realized there was no way she could get any rest while there.

Throughout the day, she spent her time walking through the streets. Far in the distance, she could see the royal palace. She had wanted to go back there and resume her normal life but that was impossible. Has Baldwin heard from the Sultan since the morning? Did the story about the Sultan’s sister’s caravan reach his ears? Aspasia decided to waste her time so that at night, she could go pay a visit to the King. While out in the streets, she wondered if it would be a good idea to take the King on another spontaneous night-time trip. He must have been incredibly busy during the day and perhaps it was not a good idea to take him out on an adventure.

The day went by slowly as if the sun was taking its sweet time to go down. When it finally got dark, Aspasia decided to wait a bit more time because Baldwin would often have his physicians come to pay him a visit in his apartments, to administer him his medicine. Aspasia did not want to intrude. She made her way toward the palace slowly and used the same secret entrance to get inside the castle grounds. From there, she ran across a yard and began climbing a wall, holding onto climbing vines and edges of the building. She passed her legs over a baluster, hiding from the guards who patrolled the castle grounds. She made her way to the balcony that gave to the King’s apartments. As she got there, she thought she heard the physicians leaving the King’s bedroom. In their arms, they carried a box with tools and bottles of ointment. Their footsteps resonated against the hard floor and they marched out, leaving behind a quiet apartment.

Aspasia was about to climb onto the balcony when she heard someone coughing. It started softly and then it got louder and more aggressive and coarser as if the lungs were about to break themselves. She searched for Baldwin, wondering how his throat felt, if it was irritated, and found him half-laying in bed. She hesitated about taking a step closer, unsure if Baldwin has heard her get in. He rolled partially to the side, searching for something. “Let me help you,” she quickly said. He jumped a bit and started coughing even louder. He raised one hand in front of him, telling her to stay where she was. He turned his back to her and picked up a chalice from his night table which must have had water in and lifted his mask partially to drink. Almost instantly, his coughing stopped. 

Aspasia worried about his health and saw that he tried to not show it to her in the past, but his disease was progressing. He must have been good at hiding his pain, around the crowds and when holding a council with knights. Could he possibly do that also around Aspasia? When he was finished drinking, he placed the chalice back where it was and adjusted the mask on his face. “I thought you would not come back to see me,” he told her, his voice sounding a bit weak and tired.

“Of course, I would come and visit you,” she assured him. She took a few steps closer and hesitated, worried that it would make him uncomfortable to have her this near when he was feeling at his worst. Every illness was at its most horrible state at night, Aspasia understood. “I am not going to ask how you are feeling because I can see how it – “

“- I am fine! Really.” He sat on and tried to move to the side so that Aspasia could sit next to him. She tried to give him her best smile but had a lot of difficulties concealing her worries. “I am very delighted to have you back,” he placed his bandaged hand on her lap, and she wrapped it with her fingers. “I was meaning to tell you something. It was very funny when it happened.”

“Please do.”

“Well, earlier today, I was speaking the Tiberius at his office and he had left me there for a brief amount of time to go fetch a document. My nephew suddenly barged in the office, and closed the door behind him, carefully looking over his shoulder to see if his tutor was not following him, and he came to me, and with the most serious tone he could make, he said,” and Baldwin imitated his nephew, with the same look in his eyes, “ ‘I know your secret, uncle’.”

Aspasia quickly covered her mouth before she could burst into laughter. She could picture Baldwin’s nephew saying this and imagined how adorable he must have been. “Wow,” she smiled, “your _secret_ , huh.”

“Yes,” Baldwin chuckled, “I have never seen him this serious. I responded the exact thing that you said: ‘a secret, huh’ and he proceeded to tell me ‘I know you have been meeting with Aspasia, after she was gone, and I want you to give this to her.’ And he gave me this.” Baldwin pointed to a vase with a flower inside it, which Aspasia has not noticed. She got out of the bed and walked to the flower. It was a lily flower, with pink and white petals, and at the bottom of it, there was still a bit of soil, which no one has bothered to clean and remove. “I did not dare to touch it: this is how Baldwin gave it to me.”

Aspasia laughed and smiled. Baldwin must have stolen it from his mother’s garden. Would Sibylla notice that a flower was missing? “It smells wonderful,” she said. “I am such a lucky girl.” She turned around and laughed, “I may be too old for your nephew, but do all Baldwins in your family have such a good taste in women?”

Baldwin laughed but the laughter quickly turned into coughing. Aspasia, with the lily in her hand, walked back to him and attempted to stroke his back, hoping it would soothe him. “If you can, you should pay him a visit,” Baldwin said between two coughs, “he really misses you.”

She smelled the flower and smiled: “I’ll see what I can do.”

“As you know, I’m not supposed to interact with him more than necessary. His mother would not have been happy. I promised him I will tell you that he misses you.”

Aspasia began to feel guilty for not having given the prince a proper goodbye, a long time ago. He must have been worried for her, if he took the risk to go see his uncle who was a leper and ask him to give her a flower, knowing he would be scolded by his mother if he got caught. She placed the flower on top of the covers and climbed on the bed, next to Baldwin. He did not cough anymore, and it was unclear if he was trying to contain it or if he was feeling slightly better. She told herself that such moments between them were rare and she would have to cherish them while Baldwin was still among them. “I was meaning to tell you about what happened to me in the past days,” Aspasia said, taking a serious tone with him. Sensing it was important, he sat up straight, his pillow behind his back for support, and listened to her quietly. “There were knights that came from the Byzantine Empire, which I was worried about. Among them was my father, and it got me worried.”

“He came to fetch you?”

“… Not exactly.” She explained to him everything, about her father coming to find her and to tell her about the death of her mother. She tried to downplay the part with Phillip, fearing that Baldwin would get angry at her for having saved him, but the King did not make her feel ashamed. She told him how she believed that her father was, in part, responsible for her death because he never stayed around to take care of them. Throughout the whole storytelling, she completely omitted the details about the artifact and the ISU vault.

“Don’t cry,” he almost begged her, when she could barely get the words out because she was tearing up. “No one could have predicted that Phillip would do such a thing.”

Aspasia covered her face with her hands and rubbed her eyes. Baldwin wanted to hand her a handkerchief, but she thanked him and used her sleeves to wipe away the tears. “I am fine, thank you. It is just that … in a matter of a few days, everything changed so quickly, and I barely had the time to take in what was happening. You’re the first person who I tell this and … this feels very strange… I always thought she died due to a terrible accident. My mother never made any enemies. I could have never imagined that she would be murdered in cold blood.”

Baldwin placed a cover over her shoulders and rubbed her back. “I am so sorry to hear this, Aspasia,” he said, “I cannot imagine how difficult it must be.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and placed her forehead in the crook of his neck. He was hesitant, as always, but decided not to protest. Aspasia must have thought the same thing because she chuckled to herself. “You should leave all of this behind and let me deal with Phillip,” Baldwin said. “You don’t have to face him or anyone else alone, you have me. You have people who care about you right here.”

“Here you go again, trying to convince him to bring him in,” Aspasia sighed, “I will have to deal with him on my own, and I’m afraid that after that, I cannot go back.”

Baldwin tensed up. “What do you mean?” 

Aspasia did not want to go further into the details. She knew that it could potentially break out into a fight. “You know that, after I got rid of the spy working for Saladin, everything will head downhill. I will also become a criminal and will have to be put to justice.”

“This is why I am insisting – and I know that you are tired of hearing this – that you remove yourself from this situation before everything gets worse.”

“I cannot do that. I must deal with Phillip myself. He killed my mother, after all.” She could sense Baldwin growing angrier with her and she hated that. She quickly kissed the cheeks of his mask and squeezed his hand softly, but he most certainly did not feel that. “I know what you are thinking.”

“What am I thinking?”

“That you dislike how I always try to postpone the important conversations to have. I know you want to discuss this with me, but I prefer not to get you involved, especially since you are not yet Phillip’s enemy and he has no reason to come after you and hurt you. I will be careful, Baldwin. Now that my father is here, I know that I don’t have to deal with Phillip on my own: if my father is out for revenge, I may, in the end, not even need to deal with him.”

Baldwin remained quiet for a moment. “You are setting yourself up for danger.” He was not wrong about that. Aspasia kissed him again and put his arms around her. There was no way of convincing him otherwise, but Baldwin could not do anything to put a stop to her plans. Perhaps at that point, he preferred to keep it that way, because at least now, he knew what her plan was and what she had in mind.

“It is getting late, and I was thinking of paying your nephew a short visit,” Aspasia told him. She set the pillow and tapped it to make it fluffier. Baldwin laid down and let Aspasia pull the covers over him. “You will leave me this soon?”

Aspasia laughed. “Well, if you want me to stay more, why didn’t you just say so.” She laid next to him, on the covers, and put an arm around him, her head resting on his shoulder. With him, she was always careful not to hurt him, or be too heavy on him.

“You know, I used to put your nephew to bed and tell him stories. Would you like to hear one?”

“Of course.”

She adjusted her position, shifting a bit, and licking her lips. She was not sure it was a good idea to tell him this story which she has heard recently. Perhaps Baldwin will find it odd. “It will sound strange to you. This story was told to me by my father recently and I too found it strange, but I insist on telling it to you, so bear with me. This story is about an ancient civilization, one that came before humans did. This civilization was called Isu, or ‘Those who Came Before.’ These people were ancient, and yet highly advanced and intelligent. They ruled the Earth, perhaps 77,000 years ago. They created mankind and along with it, various artifacts…” She counted to him the story of the Great Catastrophe, the war between the humans and the Isu, the escape made by Adam and Eve with the Apple of Eden, and how even today, people are still looking for the various artifacts that had been left behind. Throughout the telling of the story, Aspasia and Baldwin have rolled on the side, and she had her arm around him, holding his hand close to his chest. Baldwin had listened to her quietly, and behind the mask, he was unclear to her what he was thinking or expressing. When she finished telling the story, she pushed herself up and used her elbow to support her body, then placed her chin on his shoulder, trying to look for a clue of what he was thinking, in his eyes.

“That is … the strangest story I have ever heard,” he breathed. “And I don’t mean to offend you by saying that.” She couldn’t disagree. She told it to him in such a way that it sounded like a myth, told from one generation to another, by their pagan ancestors. Aspasia was not sure herself if she believed the story, but after having seen the Isu vault, she had mixed feelings. “I hope this is not the type of story you tell my nephew,” Baldwin joked. Aspasia laughed and reassured him that it was not. She could sense that he was still perplexed. Why would Aspasia tell him such a tale? How could she come up with that?

“It’s not an important story, either way,” Aspasia said, “but I am glad I got the opportunity to tell it to you. Now, it is your turn.”

Baldwin was surprised. “My turn?”

“Yes.”

“I … did not know we were taking turns.”

Maybe he was taken by surprise and had not thought of a story to tell. “I keep hearing that you won a great battle against Saladin when you were just sixteen. Let me hear this story from you.”

Baldwin sighed and looked into the dark as if recollecting the event. “I was sixteen, yes. In the previous year, the signs of my disease were not very bad, but they progressed quickly with the years. Saladin was marching with his troops towards Jerusalem. He must have believed that I, with an army much smaller than his, would not dare come after him. He attacked many cities on his way and allowed his army to spread out, believing that my army and the Templars together were not a threat to him. We caught them at Montgisard, it is by the coast. His army was taken by surprise when we attacked. Their horses were tired from having marched such a long distance, part of their equipment had come late, as it was brought along by ship, and so, many of his men were unarmed and defenceless. His men panicked when they saw us, attempted to get into formation but there was chaos among Saladin’s troops. I ordered for the Holy Cross to be lifted above our heads, and for it to be carried as we marched into battle. It was so beautiful… You should have been there to see it and see us. I was not bad looking, the disease has not affected my face yet. I could move with more ease and I could ride my horse without any assistance. Before the battle, I prayed, and the Lord answered me.”

“You are, to me, the most beautiful man, even though you have not shown your face to me. I too wish I could have been there, to see you and to support you.”

He placed a kiss on her forehead and stroked her cheek. “We attacked the Muslim army, I was at the very heart of the fight, and Saladin escaped the battle before he could get captured. We chased his army away until night fell upon us, and we retreated to Ascalon. I remember that the ten days that followed, it rained heavily, and I knew that Saladin’s army, returning to Egypt, has not made it to its homeland yet. Perhaps a tenth of his army had made its way back.”

Smiling like a child, Aspasia kissed him. It was like a victory kiss that was given to him late, years later after the battle had ended. “They will write stories about you, in the future.”

“It would be a nice way to be remembered,” Baldwin turned to face her and wrapped an arm around her, “other than for being a leper.”

She put one arm around his shoulders, kept the other one around his waist and kissed him again. She really hated the mask because it did not kiss her back and did not convey any warmth, but Baldwin would have refused to take it off in front of her. Baldwin accepted her gestures, perhaps it would be the last time he would allow her to stay glued to him, in fear that she might get sick just from the proximity. “Is that okay with you?” she checked.

“Yes, it is,” he reassured her. She was happy that was his response. She kept kissing him, from the lips to the cheek, up to the ears. Her hands still around him. With one hand she stroked his back while the other moved down slowly. She gently pushed him down so that her upper body could rest above him. She was careful not to add too much weight on top of him. When the back of his head touched the pillow, Baldwin froze and with one hand, he stopped hers. Did he feel that? Was it a mistake from her part? “Wait, I don’t think…” he began saying.

She removed her hand from his sides and apologized: “is this too much?”

He did not answer, unsure of what to say.

Going any further would have caused them many problems and Aspasia hated to say it, but he was right. With his illness, he could not show himself to her the way she would show herself to him. In addition to that, there were many laws about extramarital relations. Sibylla did not seem to have seen a problem with this couple when she told Aspasia she was happy for them, a long time ago. Aspasia was also led to believe that rules were loosely applied to the King, as he was the head of the kingdom and also suffered from leprosy, and no one would have dared to tell him what he was and was not allowed to do.

Still, Baldwin judged it was best to stop there. Aspasia hated that she agreed with him. “I am not rejecting you,” Baldwin tried to reassure her, thinking that he had broken her heart.

“No, of course, you’re not,” Aspasia smiled and said genuinely, “that I know. And I understand why you must have done that.” She cupped his face and kissed him again but did nothing else. “I did not want to make you uncomfortable,” she admitted, “I really wish you could show your face to me. It is not as bad as you think.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know that I love you too much to be repulsed by anything. You are, in my eyes, the most beautiful man, and I am a lucky woman to be loved by you.”

“You are awfully affectionate today,” he almost laughed. “I should say the same thing to you.”

“That is because I was very sad, these past few days, and being with you makes me the happiest woman ever.

“Well,” Baldwin answered, “I am glad to have you rely on me. You know, even though you are stronger and healthier than I am, I am still a man and you are still a woman, and you can depend on me when you believe your problems are too difficult to handle alone.” Another peck on her mouth.

She thought she was going to tear up, but she did not know why. Her heart was filled with love and happiness, and for a second, it felt like they had not seen each other for an eternity and had to say their last goodbye. Poets wrote about this kind of love, and for her to feel it and live it herself felt surreal. “Would you still love me if you did not have leprosy? If your life would have been so different, that you would have to been betrothed to a noble Frankish woman?”

“There is no point in discussing a reality that does not exist.”

“Please, answer me.”

“I don’t know. We may have never met if that was the case. If we did, I would still have loved you. I would not know if _you_ would love me if I were healthy. Perhaps you saw a broken man who could be fixed.”

“I cannot fix you, Baldwin. I would move Heaven and the Earth to do that if I could.” This was not false to say that his sickness brought out of him a softer and sweeter side. Would he have behaved differently, if healthy? Deep down, she knew he loved her because she was who she was, and not because he was craving any sort of affection. There was a bit of hope, in her heart, that if things would have been different, Baldwin would have still loved her.

He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair.

“Perhaps you should get some sleep,” Aspasia whispered. “I kept you up long past midnight.”

“Will you not stay here?”

“Just a bit. But you must close your eyes. I know you have important things to attend to and so I will not keep you awake any longer.”

She leaned in and placed her lips on his, and rested her head right next to his so that her forehead was against his ear. She would leave soon so that Baldwin could take off his mask and sleep comfortably. After that, she would sneak into the prince’s room. She hoped he was still awake. She needed to thank him for the flowers, one of the loveliest gifts she ever received.


	51. Mirage

Aspasia prepared to leave Baldwin’s apartments. He had fallen asleep quickly, beside her, and Aspasia realized he had not taken his mask off. She woke him and to let him know that she was about to leave, that way, he could take off his mask without any worry and sleep comfortably. As she was about to leave, she looked over her shoulder in the direction of the King. His back turned to her, his face was still in the shadow. The mask was placed on the bedside table, and a few bandages around his neck have been loosened. If she walked around his bed and headed to his side, she could see his face.

Deciding against taking a peek, she jumped over the balcony and made her way to the other side of the palace. Careful not to be spotted, she climbed up the tower where the prince’s and princess’ rooms were. Arriving in front of Baldwin’s room, she opened the door slowly and sneaked her way in. The screeching sound of the door did not wake up the prince. Aspasia found the little boy in his bed, sleeping peacefully, hands alongside his body, and the covers up to his chest.

She made her way to him and sat beside him. Shaking his shoulder softly, the prince woke up, his eyelids fluttering open. When he saw that it was Aspasia, Baldwin jumped in surprise and wrapped his arms around her. Sensing that he was on the verge of crying, Aspasia quickly shushed him and patted his back, hoping this would provide some comfort. “I have missed you so much!” Aspasia said, noticing that he had grown up a bit.

“I missed you more,” he said, his head on her shoulder and her hair between his fingers. She kissed his forehead and thanked him for the flower. “Did you like it?” he asked.

“It was lovely,” Aspasia responded, “and please, ask your mother’s permission next time! I am not sure that she will be happy to see that someone has been stealing flowers from her garden.”

She took him in her arms, Baldwin sat on her lap and she wrapped him up in the covers. “Tell me another one of your stories,” Baldwin asked. She thought of anything that she could come, but recently, only recent events in her life came to mind. She could not tell him those.

“It is getting late! My plan was just to thank you for the flower and put you back to sleep!”

“But please, don’t go yet! I have not seen you for a long time and I missed your stories! Mother is not as good as you!”

Aspasia laughed. If Sibylla heard him say that, she would not have liked it.

“Alright,” Aspasia finally said, “I have one. It is the story of the time I defeat an evil lord in Macedonia who was corrupted and taxed the people more than they could pay.” Baldwin relaxed, got more comfortable and listened attentively. Aspasia tried to act out the characters, but she feared that anyone who passed by the room would hear her. When Baldwin began to close his eyes slowly, Aspasia knew it was her cue to wrap up the story. She tucked him in bed and finished telling the tale. By the time she was done, Baldwin had already dozed off and Aspasia kissed his forehead. Baldwin must have sensed that she was going to leave; he wrapped his arms around her another time, urging her to stay. Aspasia sighed and smiled. “I must go, but I promise that we will see each other again,” she said.

“That’s not true! I know that you will go, and you will forget about me!”

It pained her to hear him say this. She was not going to forget about him, it was impossible. She could not tell him about the issues that she was facing either. He would not understand and only put unnecessary stress on him.

In the distance, in the sky, there was a bird that shrieked. Aspasia picked up Baldwin in her arms and headed toward the window of his room. Up in the sky, Huma flew above the castle grounds. “Do you see that bird over there?” she asked him, Baldwin nodded, “it is mine. I just got it.”

Huma must have spotted them. The eagle flew down and set on the balcony, it’s claws out. With its eyes, it analyzed Baldwin, and the animal must have deduced that it was not an enemy, otherwise, Aspasia would not hold him in her arms.

“Can I touch it?”

“You can pet it on the back,” Aspasia specified, “but be careful.”

She demonstrated to him first how to do it, and Huma allowed them to touch her. Baldwin smiled when he felt the feathers, and giggled. The bird had shown itself to be calm in his presence, perhaps it has also sensed that Baldwin was just a child and would not harm it.

“I want a bird like this too,” Baldwin beamed. “What is its name? Is it male or female?”

“Huma, like the bird in Persian mythology. It is a female and it is quite young” Aspasia explained, “and you can have it. I will put it in my will, and you will inherit it when I will die.”

“But birds live short lives compared to us!” Baldwin complained, “you are saying that I will not be able to have it! That’s not fair!”

Aspasia chuckled and tickled him, “exactly! Huma is mine! I will gift you another bird, when you get older, don’t worry! One to your liking.”

The prince pouted, and Aspasia shooed the eagle away. She led Baldwin back to his bed and tucked him in, like she used to do. “Alright, now you cannot negotiate with me any further; you must go to sleep, otherwise you will be in trouble tomorrow morning when they realize that you have been up all night.” She stayed by his side until she was sure that he was asleep. Then, she got up and left, through the balcony.

Once outside, she made her way to the fence and climbed it while guards were not paying attention. When she crossed it, she was out in the city. The streets of Jerusalem were quiet that night. Few people were still awake, most of the houses had their doors locked. She moved through the streets, unsure if it was a good idea to head back to camp for the night. She would reach it only in the morning if she did that. She was hoping that a hospital would have an empty bed for her to stay.

Outside, it got colder. The moon above shone a cool, milky light upon the streets. As she made her ways through many alleyways, Aspasia saw a small body sleeping on the floor. As she approached it, she recognized Arwa. The little girl was laying in an awkward position, attempting to keep herself warm and to be comfortable. She was hidden behind a cart filled with empty boxes, but despite taking precautions like this, she was not safe.

Aspasia got on her knees and woke up Arwa. The little girl rolled on her back and looked up at Aspasia. Realizing that it was her and that she was safe, Arwa stood up and smiled: “I am so happy to see you!”

“What are you doing here?? You were supposed to find your father!!”

“Yes! I searched for him, but I couldn’t find him!”

“I have to report you to the Marshall!! I cannot have you sleep outside, alone, it’s very dangerous!” She put her arm around her wrist and began dragging her behind her. 

“No! NO!” Arwa began screaming. Aspasia put her hand on her mouth and prevented her from screaming louder.

“Idiot!” Aspasia hissed. “You will wake up the whole quarter! Is that what you want?”

Arwa pushed her hand away. “But you threatened to take me to the Marshall’s office!” Of course, Aspasia was not going to do that. They would have arrested her when they saw her. She could not help but worry about Arwa. Did the girl lie about looking for her father? Jerusalem was a big city and perhaps he could be found in the Muslim quarter, but Aspasia could not go out and help her look for him. If Arwa was telling the truth, how could she be sure that her father was still in Jerusalem? It was possible that he had taken a horse and gone to search his daughter and wife, not knowing their caravan had been raided.

“And you sleep here at night? Out, in the streets? How long have you done that?”

“A few days now. Don’t worry. There are other orphans and sometimes, we form alliances and help each other out.”

Aspasia sighed. She pitied Arwa. She reminded her of herself when she was younger, only Arwa seemed more intelligent and had better hope for the future. “Alright,” Aspasia gave in, “I will take you with me. We are going to find a place where we can sleep tonight and tomorrow, you’re on your own again.”

She pulled Arwa up. The girl stood on her two feet. She did not possess many items and so there was nothing to carry. With her free hand, she took Aspasia’s and the two girls walked together, looking for a hospital where they could sleep. They walked together to the center of the city where Aspasia knew there was a hospital. When they got there, Aspasia knocked on the front doors, expecting someone to open them. A nun opened the doors, and seeing that it was two women, she let them in. “How may I help you?” she asked, sounding almost bored.

“A place where we can spend the night. I am ready to pay,” Aspasia said as she took out a pouch with coins.

“I may have a single bed available in the women’s shelter. Are you willing to share?”

“Of course.”

“Will be you taking any of our other services? We have a kitchen, and we have baths.”

Aspasia looked at Arwa. The little girl was in desperate need of a bath, and both of them were hungry. “I will take both,” Aspasia said.

She made the payment and while the nurse prepared their bed, the two girls were given night-gowns as a gift and they were allowed to use the bath. Aspasia washed the tub so that it would be clean for Arwa and heated some water. After pouring the water in the bathtub, she checked to see if the temperature was good and said to Arwa: “alright, you can get undressed now.”

Arwa froze on the spot. Aspasia noticed that Arwa was not moving and so she clapped her hands, telling her to hurry.

“No.”

“What do you mean by no?” Aspasia asked, thinking that her behaviour was odd.

“No.”

“Arwa,” Aspasia called her name in a menacing tone, “the water will get cold, by the time you get undressed. I don’t have the patience to deal with that now.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean by that??”

Arwa’s ears turned red. Aspasia rolled her eyes and puffed. “It’s embarrassing!” admitted the girl.

“There is nothing embarrassing!” Aspasia argued, “I am also a girl! Don’t think that I don’t have the same body parts as you! Come on, no more arguing! In the bath! Now!” She turned her back so that the girl could get inside the tub, and Aspasia picked up her dirty clothes to put them to be washed. She washed and rinsed Arwa, first the hair, then the back, arms and legs. When the little girl was finished, she allowed Aspasia to wrap her in a towel and put on a set of clothes that have been borrowed to them by the nun.

It was Aspasia’s turn to take a bath. “Should I help you?” Arwa asked.

“No!”

“What is this reaction?”

“I said no.”

“I can give you a massage and scrub your back like you scrubbed mine!” Arwa offered.

“Arwa, no!”

In the end, the little girl imposed herself. She helped pour water on her hair so that Aspasia could wash it. With a damp towel, she helped her wash her back. Finally, when Aspasia was out of the bath, dried, the young woman took their clothes to wash them. She hung them to dry and both girls headed to the hospital’s kitchen to eat what was left from dinner, earlier today. After re-heating their food and eating, Aspasia washed their plates and said: “you have a full stomach and you are clean. Now, you must sleep.”

“But I am in such a good mood!” Arwa protested, “let’s play a game! I know a very nice one which we used to play when we were still at home and – “

“- to bed. Now.”

Whether Arwa was tired or not, they were going to go to sleep. They reached a large room with many beds, most of them have been occupied by women. The men’s shelter was located on another aisle of the building. Aspasia put her bag at her feet and opened the covers so that Arwa could climb in. A nurse has put on some clean sheets and changed the pillowcase. When Arwa was inside the covers, Aspasia climbed in right after and moved to the side so that Arwa could have space to lay.

“Can I wrap my arm around you?” Arwa asked. “I used to snuggle with my mother like that, it is more comfortable.”

“No,” Aspasia hushed at her, “I’m not your mother.”

“Please!” Arwa smiled. She did not listen to Aspasia; she put an arm around her neck as well as one leg, now completely glued to her. Aspasia sighed, she knew it would get hot in the morning, with Arwa right against her. She tried to push the little girl away, but she tightened her grip around her. “You know,” Arwa continued, “my mom also sang to me this lullaby, but it’s in Arabic, I hope you don’t mind.” She was about to sing when Aspasia covered her mouth with her hand and shushed her.

“No more singing. No more hugging. Go to sleep.”

“Wow,” Arwa grimaced, “are you always this grumpy?”

Aspasia pulled the pillow from under their head and hit Arwa with it. The girl giggled and Aspasia shushed her again. “Sleep. Now. Or I will put you to sleep myself.”

“Alright, alright,” Arwa gave up. “Good night, Aspasia. Sweet dreams. Sleep tight.”

Aspasia hit her with the pillow once again. Arwa raised her hands, in defeat, and snuggled closer to Aspasia, not realizing that her arm around her neck was almost choking her. Not even a minute passed when Arwa pulled herself up, her chin on Aspasia’s shoulder, and supporting her body weight on her elbow when she asked her: “do you think my father is still alive?”

Aspasia wanted to roll her eyes. If Arwa kept talking and moving, they would both lose their will to fall asleep. “Yes, of course. Why?”

“Because if I cannot find him, there must be a reason.”

“We will find him. Your father is a capable man, he can protect himself, and you will be reunited with him. He is waiting for you.”

“I hope so.”

Arwa got quiet. Aspasia thought that the girl had fallen asleep for good. She subtly turned her head to the side, hoping to see if the girl had her eyes closed when Arwa flicked her finger at her nose. Aspasia flinched and gave Arwa a small smack. The girl began to giggle loudly.

“SHUUUUSH!” Aspasia said, and placed her index finger in front of her lips.

A woman in another bed turned on the side. Arwa and Aspasia froze, worried that she would wake up to the two of them bickering.

←→

When morning came, Aspasia let Arwa sleep in a bit more and went to the kitchen to get the two of them breakfast. When she arrived with a stew and bread, Arwa was awakened by the smell. Over the course of the night, their clothes had dried. While Arwa ate her food, Aspasia brushed her hair and helped her get dressed.

“What will you do today?” Arwa asked her, as she gave Aspasia her empty plate.

“I have some personal business to attend,” she remained vague. Arwa appeared to be disappointed. “And you will have to go see a guard and ask them to take you to find your father. I cannot have you walk around the streets, by yourself. It’s too dangerous, especially for a little girl.”

In truth, Aspasia was considering speaking to Baldwin about this. In turn, he could, in turn, speak to Tiberias about Arwa’s situation, and Tiberias would help her personally. He had contacts with people all over the city and could find her father in no time. The problem was Arwa; the girl was not easy to reach – most orphans were moving around the city and never remained on one spot. Aspasia was lucky to have found her the previous night.

There was nothing unusual about orphans in the streets of Jerusalem, but if there was a hope that they could find her father, Aspasia wanted to make sure Arwa got home. It was another problem that she did not want to deal with. She had to do something about Phillip, she could not worry over a little orphan girl.

“I will be very careful from now on,” Arwa promised.

When the two girls finished eating and got ready, they left the Hospital, Arwa going her own way. She gave Aspasia a quick and tight hug and left off. Aspasia watched her disappear into the crowd, knowing that Arwa will find the other orphans she had met while she was in Jerusalem. It felt a bit irresponsible of her, but she could not remain in Jerusalem indefinitely.

←→

Night came and Aspasia was back at the camp. She had her weapons repaired by the blacksmith and came back with polished blades and swords. After having ridden her horse across the desert, she arrived at their settlement, Phillip was already there and had made a fire. Aspasia got off her horse and took out an item that was wrapped and placed in her bag. She gave Phillip a piece of meat that she had bought from the market and found that Phillip himself has caught a small animal during the day.

“This is for Huma,” Phillip showed her what seemed to be a small rabbit. Aspasia cut the meat and feed it to the eagle. Phillip tried to pet the bird but Aspasia quickly sent it flying. “Hey!” laughed Phillip. Aspasia laughed too and pretended it was an accident. She thought to herself that it was a bad idea to teach the bird that Phillip was not an enemy. If she ever needed to fight him off, she needed to use Huma to attack him, that Phillip was not their friend.

“I will go to sleep,” Aspasia said, yawning.

“So early? If you give me just a moment, dinner will be ready.”

“I am fine.”

She moved to her corner. She laid down and massaged her forehead, using her hand to mask her face. Phillip looked at her for a long time, to the point it became overwhelming to her a bit. She thought she was beginning to tear up a bit, but she concealed her face. The past few days have been overwhelming for her, with many realizations and discoveries of secrets that were kept from her.

“Are you alright?” Phillip asked again.

She did not hear him say that. Phillip got up from his spot and approached her. Aspasia would have chased him away but him being her brother, she could not do that.

“Not eating… Sleeping very little … Always lost in your thoughts… You have been looking very depressed, according to me, these past few weeks. I don’t know what is happening, but you can talk to me and confide in me. I am your older brother after all, and I have to support you and offer you advice, the same way you have helped me during my most difficult times.”

Aspasia nodded her head. She thought she was about to cry and squeezed her eyes shut. It was always the same internal conflict and she could not make up her mind. Phillip has saved her life multiple times in the past – it was going to be hard to get rid of him. She thought about running away with him, but it would be unfair for Baldwin. She could also warn him and tell him to run away in the East, toward Mongolia, and begin a new life, but Phillip would most likely return to his old ways if Aspasia was not there to keep an eye on him.

←→

Years ago, when Aspasia was barely nine, her mother died of an accident on the road. That was what she has been told. She was out, during the day, playing with the other kids, and procrastinating of doing the tasks her mother has given to her – to bring to the river the dirty laundry to wash it. She thought she could always do it in the afternoon, it would not make a difference.

In the morning, the sky was clear blue, but it got greyer past noon, and Aspasia was worried that it would begin to rain on them before she even had the opportunity to wash their clothes. She quickly left the other children and their game and ran to her house to pick up the clothes. She filled a basket with them and ran outside when she noticed that her neighbours were outside.

It was a woman and her husband who lived next door, a few years older than her own mother. When she saw Aspasia, she frowned and asked her: “where are you going with this?”

“To the river, to wash them.”

Her mouth twitched in weird ways. Aspasia assumed she wanted to say something but could not find her words. Finally, the neighbour said: “drop that back inside the house and come here.”

“What is the matter?”

“There are … some bad news.”

Aspasia did just that. She left the basket by the door; in case she would go back inside to pick it up and climbed over the fence to get on the neighbour’s side. The woman sighed because it would have been much better for Aspasia to walk around the fence, and go through the door. Aspasia was going to be stuck in her old ways for a long time. A hand on her shoulder, she invited her inside and set her at the table. In front of her, she placed a cup of tea and offered her some bread with jam.

Her husband was not home yet, because he worked at the village’s store, but he would be back in the evening. “Why do you look so nervous?” Aspasia asked the woman before shoving a whole slice of bread with jam in her mouth. When she did not answer, Aspasia knew something was wrong.

“They found your mother by the side of the road. She must have gotten into an accident.”

Aspasia frowned. She could not understand the gravity of the situation. What type of accident? How badly was she hurt? Why was she kept at the village and not sent with a physician to help her mother? “I must go then.”

“No, no, no, no,” the woman quickly responded. "Stay here."

“She might need my help.”

“There are people already on the case. I need you to stay here and let them do their work. I cannot have you running around right now.”

“But I must go! It’s my mother!”

“No! You stay here! Someone will come for you! Sit down!”

Aspasia tried to get past her but the woman grabbed her and pulled her back.

“Sit down!”

“No! I have to go!”

She understood that if her neighbour was making a big deal of it, then it must have been severe. This only made Aspasia want to leave even more. Luckily for the woman, her husband came back and found Aspasia struggling to escape.

“What is going on?” the man asked.

“I have to see my mother!” shouted Aspasia.

“Aspasia… “

There was a sad tone in his voice. The worst possible scenarios crossed her mind. If she was not allowed to go see her, how bad was it? The husband patted her back and invited her to sit down and to explain everything. He told her about how her mother was found on the road, badly hurt, and that she must have been involved in an accident with a traveller going with a cart at a high speed.

Aspasia began to cry, wondering who could have been alright with the idea that they just hit and run. There was no way for her to find who was responsible for the accident and hold them accountable. The day has passed like this, Aspasia was crying to herself on the bed, and the couple did not know how to soothe her. They tried to use food and sweets or to spend time with her, but she was inconsolable.

In the evening, a man came to visit them. He was an official of the city, who was part of the council that managed the village. He came to see Aspasia and was not surprised to find her in such a depressive state. In a very serious but honest tone, he said: “I will pray for you and your mother,” and attempted to explain to a little girl, in a vocabulary which she could understand, what had happened.

A scene where a bloody and bruised body was found lying in a puddle of blood. She was not told the details – the size or depth of the wounds, what type of object could inflict such a cut, and it was only years later that she would find out that it was not an accident and that the object used was sharp, like a sword or a xiphos. She had not been allowed to see her mother’s body until the next day, where she visited the physician’s house, and in the yard, the body was wrapped in linen. She was shown only the face and she was barely allowed to hug her mother one last time for too long.

When their visit was over, her neighbour had to practically drag her outside. Many children had come to see her and give her their sincerest apologies. During that time, many people have come to see Aspasia and check on her, including the village’s priest. They prayed for her mother and with Aspasia’s neighbours, they planned the funeral ceremony.

A few days later, a strange man came to their village. It was one of the Templar knights who Aspasia had seen talking to her mother, the one with the white hair, and who she thought was being mean to her. This time, he came here by himself, and he had another horse that followed them. When she saw him, she hid inside the neighbour’s house, and the husband came out to speak to him.

They spoke outside, and Aspasia and the woman watched them through the window. “I’ve seen this man before,” Aspasia whispered to her, “he was not nice to my mother, she was speaking to him with a tone.” The woman put her hand on her shoulder and gave her a loving squeeze. Then, the husband invited the visitor into the house. Aspasia felt her heart race and tried to quickly hide somewhere. The door opened and the two men stepped inside. “Crap,” Aspasia cursed, realizing that she could not hide from him now.

“Aspasia!” the woman scolded her for having said a bad word. “Language!”

“I don’t want to see him,” she pointed her finger at the man with the white hair.

“Please, be nice!”

“No! He was mean to my mom! I saw that!”

The woman tried to calm her down and told her to sit down. Aspasia would not sit anywhere near the man, and so she stayed by the side of the woman. She hid her face in her arm and refused to acknowledge the man’s presence. What happened that day essentially was that the man presented himself as her father and that he wanted to bring her with him to live at his home. That felt like she was being kidnapped because she did not know him and did not have any wish to get to know him. When she told her neighbours that she wanted to stay with them, they told her that they could not afford to take care of her. Aspasia assured them that she was willing to take her mother’s job, even though she was only nine years old, and that she could manage the house by herself. The neighbours would only have to check in on her occasionally. 

Of course, no amount of arguing or persuading worked. They assured her that Aspasia could always come back to the village to visit them, to play with the other children, but Aspasia knew that it was not true, because they would grow apart and forget her. She knew that this man’s lifestyle, whatever it was, would not permit her to travel and visit back home. “Who is going to take my house?” Aspasia asked. She was told that it would be put on sale. That the money she could make would go back to her, but no one would have bought it. There was nothing remotely attractive to it – it was quite small, enough for two people, and it was not even located on the busiest and principal that cut through the village.

“I will give you some time to pick up some items which you want to keep,” her father said.

“No.”

“Why no?”

“I’m not going.”

“Whether you pick anything or not, it is not my problem. If I have to drag you with only the clothes you wear, then so be it.”

He got up from his seat and turned on his heels. When he left, Aspasia began to cry. The woman put an arm around her shoulders. “Hush,” she said.

“Aspasia, let’s be reasonable,” the husband said.

“NO!”

“Let’s go together, and I will help you pack your things. He is giving you time to get your items so that you don’t –“

“- I AM NOT GOING WITH HIM! IF YOU FORCE ME TO GO WITH HIM, I WILL KILL MYSEL-“

She was smacked across the face. “Don’t speak like that!” the woman scolded her, taking a tone she has never used with Aspasia.

“I WILL DO IT! YOU CAN’T FORCE ME!” Of course, they knew that Aspasia would have done anything if she was provoked. They had to ignore her anger fits and get her to pack her things. They were given a limited amount of time to do that, and when Aspasia’s father came back, they would hop on their horses and head for the mountains. She was wasting time crying and screaming. Her father would not have the patience to deal with her temper tantrums. They tried to drag Aspasia out, but she would scream louder, or she would hold onto anything so that they could not pull her. The neighbours poked their heads out of their windows to see what was going on. They would try to reason with her, to plead her and even to beat her with a stick but Aspasia was persistent to the point where no one had the patience to deal with her anymore. It was becoming hard to justify her actions. People understood that she was in mourning, but she was acting out in a way that was not healthy nor beneficial.

Finally, her father came back and found that Aspasia was not ready with her baggage and that she was covered in dirt and her tears running down her face. “That’s it,” he said in a menacing tone, “I’ve had enough with you.” He grabbed her with more strength than anyone else and forcefully dragged her to the horses that stayed tied at the post at the entrance.

“WAIT!” shouted the man.

“Give her some time! More time, please! She will get some of her things!” the woman begged for the little girl. Aspasia's father pushed her on the horse. The girl quickly got off and was about to run off when he caught her by the arms and forced her back, then tied her to the reigns so that she would not try to escape. Before she could realize, they were about to leave, and Aspasia had not picked anything. “Give her a bit of time- “

“- SHE WAS GIVEN TIME!” her father shouted at the couple, then smacked the woman away, “AND SHE WASTED IT. SHE KNEW THE CONSEQUENCES.”

The woman quickly ran to Aspasia and tried to wipe the tears off of her cheeks. “I will pack everything and come to bring them to you! Alright, sweetie?” She tried to speak in her way to mask her sadness. Aspasia could not think of an item that she wanted to keep from her house. Her mother did not possess anything that was remotely expensive or important. She was also too preoccupied with where this man was taking her to, deeper into the country. All she knew was that the life she lived with her mother, in a quiet village, where she made many friends, was in the past, and that ahead of her was coming something much more different.

She wished she had had the opportunity to say goodbye to her friends. She had a lot of trouble understanding the gravity of the situation. She still had trouble processing the death of her mother. To her, it felt as if she had gone on a trip without telling her, but she would come back eventually, and scold her for not having done the laundry like she was supposed to. When she was told that her items would be sent to her, Aspasia did not believe it one bit. All that she knew was that she wanted to leave this man who claimed to be her father.

←→

In the morning, when Aspasia woke up and Phillip was there, she looked over at the fire and saw that it had died at some point during the night. Phillip had fallen asleep not far from her, the top of their heads were touching. Her state of mind has not changed, since the previous night, but she tried to convince herself that she could hide it from Phillip, to not worry him. That day, they would have to head to the city to buy a few provisions. They were running low on food and Phillip needed to get his weapons polished and repaired. When he woke up, they packed their bags and prepared their horses. He showed himself very mindful and amicable, offering to help her carry heavy items or doing anything to put her in a good mood. “Let me help you,” he held her horse by the reins while she climbed on it. “You lead the way.”

Now both of their horse, they galloped toward the nearest city to their camp. They crossed the border to the kingdom of Jerusalem and found a big village. They brought their horses to the stables to get them water and fix their horseshoes and left his sword at the blacksmith. While in the city, Phillip offered to buy Aspasia some sweets, hoping it would make her happy. She always had a sweet tooth but since they were tight with money, she never spent it on it, deeming it to be unnecessary. They headed in an inn and they were served dates and tarts. “Spending this much money on this,” Aspasia motioned at the deserts, “is unwise.”

“Once in a while, it’s worth it.” It was kind of him to offer to do that for her. Phillip did not mention anything about her depressive state of mind these past few weeks. Perhaps he wanted Aspasia to bring it up when she was comfortable. Many thoughts about what he had done to her family crossed her mind. She had seen him do bad things herself, without feeling any remorse, and to his own benefit. Aspasia could not think how he could be saved from others who tried to capture him. Phillip has already made Ermis, Saladin and even Aspasia, as his enemies, but that, of course, he did not know. She had him wrapped around her finger. The chances that he would turn on her one day were slim, but still not negligible. If Baldwin was convinced that there was no way he would correct his behaviour, like he was convinced Aspasia would, then perhaps Aspasia should trust his judgement. Baldwin was much better at judging people’s character than she was.

“Are you finished?” Phillip asked, referring to the desserts. Aspasia quickly ate what was left and they left the inn, after having paid. She watched Phillip walk aimlessly through the streets. His blond curls shone nicely under the sunlight. She had long argued that both of them possessed similar features, both of them were born in the same region of the world and used that argument to convince him that they were siblings. Over time, she had grown to consider him like a brother and that was her mistake.

“Do you think they have our items ready?” Phillip asked her.

“Let’s go and check.” They headed back to the stables and to the blacksmith. They picked up their horses and Phillip’s swords and left the village. The hot sun in the sky was at its highest point. Most people did not travel at this time of day and preferred to take refuge in the shades. They went to search for an oasis, where they could rest until it got cooler. After riding for many hours, they finally reached one. There was a palm tree, standing alone, and a pond. They tied their horses and chose that spot to stay. Phillip sat down and inspected his sword. Aspasia watched him do that, thinking to herself that the blacksmith had done a good job. “I’m happy with the way it looks,” Phillip said, exactly her thought.

“I had my own sword repaired yesterday,” Aspasia replied, “if I knew we were going to do it today, and do it at this village, I would have waited.”

“Next time.”

Will there be a next time?

She tried not to think of that. She sat down near him, in the shades, and drank from their waterskin. The heat was becoming unbearable. Her vision of distant points was becoming blurry. 

They stayed there, relaxing under the tree, completely quiet and each in their own thoughts. When the night was going to come, they would head back near the mountain base and get their camp set up. The sun was now lowering in the sky, very slightly. And in the distance, an unknown man in a Templar uniform appeared. She thought it must have been a mirage. They were far from the city of Jerusalem, near the border with Syria. Knights did not typically patrol that region. They also moved in groups. “Do you see that?” Aspasia asked feeling. She had to make sure it was not a mirage.

Phillip squinted his eyes as if it was going to help him see better. “That’s… a knight.”

Aspasia sighed. “Alright. Thank you for confirming.” She got up and put her sword back at her hip. Seeing that Aspasia was prepared for an eventual fight, Phillip prepared his weapons too. The knight approached them on his horse. He must have been looking for an oasis and did not expect to find Aspasia and Phillip. As he got closer and closer, he stopped his horse, looking at the two mercenaries. He took off his helmet as soon as his eyes set on her. “Aspasia?” he asked. Aspasia’s heart was beating fast. Was she supposed to know him? Was he going to expose her to Phillip? She put her hand on the handle of her sword and took a step closer. The knight had not noticed that and continued advancing. “Aspasia? What are you-“he began to say as soon as he recognized Phillip. Quickly, she grabbed her sword and threw a blow at him. She hit him around the shoulder, in an area that was not covered. Blood began gushing out. “GET HIM!” she screamed at Phillip.

He began slashing at him. The knight barely had the time to take out his shield and defend himself. Phillip kept him distracted while Aspasia tried to attack him from behind. The knight tried to keep up with the two, but the attacks came from all directions. He tried to beg Aspasia to stop but he was interrupted by incoming attacks. Finally, when he was exhausted, Aspasia kicked him to the ground. Phillip exposed his hidden blade and aimed for the back of the head. Then, with her sword in her hand, Aspasia cut the head off entirely. Blood spilled on the sand. The body stopped moving and Aspasia took a step back, realizing how anxious she has been. _I should not have done that,_ she thought to herself. It was something Baldwin would have condoned. But she had to do it. Did she? Why was she protecting Phillip?

She turned her head to watch her brother. He panted and dropped his sword to the ground.

Why did she not kill Phillip, instead of this knight?

“He looks Greek,” Phillip noted, as he kicked the head so that it would roll on the ground. A pair of eyes looked up at them. “Disgusting.” Phillip grimaced. Then, he looked at Aspasia and said: “He knew your name. He must have known you.”

She thought to herself that she could have killed Phillip on the spot. There was no point in postponing her plan. She wanted to scold herself but at the same time, she was happy that her brother was still alive.

“He knew about our… past crimes,” Aspasia lied. She brought him back the story of why everyone disliked Phillip and how she had tried to save his life. Phillip heard the false tale many times in the past, it became almost natural to him.

“He must have been one of the knights Kazem mentioned.”

Mentioning the name of Kazem sent cold chills down her back.

“What’s the matter with you?” Phillip said.

Aspasia jumped a bit. There was half a smile on his face. “What do you mean?”

“It’s like this is your first kill.”

Aspasia shook her head.

Phillip nodded his head at her. He then looked down at the gauntlet. The hidden blade had retracted in. He tried to use it but the mechanism inside seemed to have been broken, and the blade was rusted and damaged. “Oh, shit,” Phillip cursed, “Why did it have to break now? It worked perfectly before.”


	52. Pact

Phillip squatted next to the headless body and rolled it over, exposing the Templar uniform and the big red cross, the ivory colour of the fabric sullied by the dirt and the blood. Above their heads, Huma was flying, its shadow cast on the ground. Phillip sighed and asked: “What do they want with us?”

Aspasia bit her lower lip. She was growing frustrated with him asking her this question over and over again. She had told him the story of how they escaped Macedonia and got here, but Phillip did not seem satisfied with it. The air was scorching outside. Aspasia’s hands were still shaking. If they remained there longer than they were supposed to, other knights would come to search for the one they had just killed, and they would catch the two siblings. “We’ve had this discussion many times before,” she replied.

“I mean… you keep saying that we are in danger. And I see that” Phillip got up and stretched his legs, “people always betray us. And they seem to know who we are. Kazem knew me, and he also knew you. These knights also recognized you. Why are we even bothering to stay here? If, at any moment, someone could kill us. We should escape. We can head further east, to Mongolia maybe. Live as mercenaries, like we do now.”

Aspasia felt something in the back of her throat. She did not like where the conversation was heading. “We can’t just run away from our problems.”

“Why not? They are bound to stop chasing us at some point. We are not worth the hassle. Besides, everyone has a much bigger enemy: Saladin and the Muslim kingdoms that surround Jerusalem.”

That was true, but Aspasia could not admit that. However, she could not say if that was her case to her father, who had travelled great distances to come after them and the jewel. He was set on getting rid of Phillip, and Aspasia had made the same vow. The problem was that Phillip was now offering for them to run away from their problems, and that would isolate her from those whom she cared about. She was not sure she liked that idea, perhaps because she did not feel entirely safe when it was just her and Phillip.

Luckily, Phillip dropped the topic when he saw that Aspasia had shut down. He picked a piece of cloth from his bag and used it to wipe the blood off the sword. Then, he tried to clean the hidden blade. Aspasia watched him attempt to repair it on his own, but there was not much he could do without the proper tools. “This is garbage,” Phillip grew angry. He removed it from his hand and threw it to the ground. Part of it shattered and broke into pieces. The blade detached itself from the gauntlet and hit a rock, the sound of metal resonated loudly.

Aspasia sighed to herself. Phillip was growing frustrated at himself. She understood why he would get angry at losing his memories, as he relied completely on his little sister for information. “Calm down, brother,” she tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but he smacked her hand away. As soon as he realized what he did, he began apologizing. “It’s fine,” Aspasia answered, “take a deep breath.” She managed to get him to sit down. Phillip massaged his forehead and passed his fingers through his blond hair. Aspasia sat on the ground next to him, on her knees. “Tell me what is wrong.”

“This … whole situation. I do not understand. II want to get my memories back,” he said and paused for a long time, “it feels like I am below the water, and I can never reach the surface for clarity.”

“You will get your memories back,” Aspasia assured him and put a hand over his knee. “There is no point in getting frustrated over this because it will not make your memories come back much faster.”

“I cannot help it.”

“Yes, I understand,” Aspasia continued, and she pulled him into an embrace. She rested her chin on top of his hand and patted his back. Phillip relaxed only a little bit. Was this not sufficient? She bit her lower lip, trying to come up with something. “Phillip,” she said, pulling away, “I know that we don’t have the means to spend money as we want to, but I still want to offer you a gift.”

“No gifts, Aspasia, please. They don’t help with anything.”

She rolled her eyes at him, aware that he saw her, and removed her right gauntlet. “Give me your hand.” Phillip extended his right hand at her, and Aspasia helped him put the gauntlet on, adjusting it to his size. When it was secured on his hand, it looked like it was made just for him. “This is the only thing that I have to give you," she said, "take my right hidden blade, and you will always have me by your side.” Phillip inspected it. He moved his fingers, exposed the blade, and analyzed it. It looked clean and strong, with minor flaws. “I am proud of you for what you have achieved, despite everything that has happened to you. You protected me when I needed protection, and I want to do the same for you,” Aspasia continued, a serious look in her eyes, “so take this as a token of our bond. When you fight, think that I will always be your right-hand, figuratively and literally.”

Phillip chuckled. “Thank you, sister.” He kissed the top of her hand and combed her hair. Aspasia relaxed. Phillip would easily listen to what she had to say. He seemed to have the same unconditional love that her mother had for her, which she had longed for years when she lived with her father.

Huma flew down towards them, and Aspasia lifted her left hand, which still had her own gauntlet. Huma set there, and Aspasia offered the bird some water and petted its feathery back. Then, the bird flew once again, perhaps to scout the environments or hunt for mice and rabbits. There was a moment of silence when the two siblings looked up at the bird flying majestically above them.

“We need to make a pact,” Phillip said.

Aspasia frowned. “A pact?” Was the gift not sufficient for him? Was the symbolism not evident enough?

Phillip stood up and showed him his right hand and exposed the gauntlet. “Blood is thicker than water. We have to make a blood pact; it is important. We never had anyone else to trust besides each other. It was always the world against us. Everyone we knew turned against us. I want to make an oath that we will protect each other, no matter what.”

Aspasia froze and observed him. Phillip removed the gauntlet but left the hidden blade exposed. Then, he walked to a rock with a flatter surface and placed his palm on it. “What are you doing?” Aspasia asked, a worried tone in her voice.

Phillip hesitated a bit. He then bit his tongue and cut his right ring finger using the blade. He left out a scream and began to bleed profusely. Aspasia jumped, almost leaving out a scream as well. "SHIT! SHIT! FUCKING - PHILLIP WHAT DID YOU-" She hurried to find a piece of cloth which he could use to stop the bleeding. She frantically searched her bag for something, her hands shaking too much, but Phillip quickly pulled out of his breast pocket a handkerchief and used it to stop the bleeding.

He sat down, hovering over his hand, and hissed from the pain. Aspasia watched him in horror. She wanted to yell at him, but words would not come out. Seeing the pain he was in; it was also a bad idea to scold him, on top of that.

“What- what, huh, oh, what…” She began to mumble, feeling herself calm down a bit. With a lot of trouble wrapping her mind around the fact that Phillip cut his own finger, she insisted on seeing his wound as if it would convince her that it was real. 

“I’m fine,” Phillip forced himself to laugh when he realized how worried Aspasia was for him. She wanted to call him names, insult him for his stupidity. “Don’t worry, I will be fine!” he insisted.

All sorts of thoughts went through her mind of a possible infection or complications in the future. Could he still use his hand, despite missing a finger?

Phillip tied a knot to the fabric around his right hand. Then, he took Aspasia by the hand and led her to that same rock.

“What?? What are you doing???” She began to panic.

Phillip realized that she had dug her heels in the ground and could not move, so he stopped forcing her. “You know, I was exaggerating, back there. It will not hurt as much as I made it seem.” Of course, that was a lie. He said not to worry her.

Seeing that she was completely shutting down and could not mutter a word, Phillip led her without any force to that rock. He put a hand on her shoulder as if to soothe her.

A million thoughts crossed her mind at that instant. The blood on the rock, the finger that was still there, cut off. She never expected, that morning, that she would be losing a part of her body. There was no way of escaping. Phillip had cut his own, and if she were to refuse, it would be as if she refused to make a pact with him. Did siblings really need a blood pact? Was their history together not enough? Was she ready to fight him and end him now? Aspasia was alone and worried that she would not be able to defeat him in a fight. Did she have a choice?

She placed the palm of her hand on the rock, avoiding the blood that was splattered there. Quietly, she began to sob to herself. “Just … do it,” she instructed Phillip. The more she thought about it, the more she would come to have regrets. The quicker it was done, the quicker it was to move on.

When she was growing up, people around her were very stoic, including about their health and their bodies. She had seen Baldwin be like that as well. It did not matter that an arm was missing to these people: you had to work with what you had. You would make things work, despite everything, and by all means. Aspasia was not like that, but she could try to adopt this philosophy. It was just a finger. She would still have nine others. She would still be able to run, jump, hold onto cliffs and buildings, climb.

She shut her eyes tight. The pain was not coming yet. Why was Phillip dragging the moment? She shouted: “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR??”

←→

Days have gone since they had made the pact. Aspasia remained at camp and spent most of her time sobbing to herself or rolling on her back, in pain. Phillip did not like seeing his sister in this state. He would have never expected Aspasia to suffer physically and emotionally, the pain of losing one finger. It was obvious to people who worked like them that their job and life were dangerous and that they could get hurt at any moment. Aspasia did not seem to take this very well, and Phillip did not doubt that Aspasia would honour their pact but would their relationship change as a result.

What it took to numb the pain was opiates, which he managed to buy from a physician in a village for a price. Only then, Aspasia stopped crying and seemed to forget a bit about her troubles. Seeing that she was going through many emotions over just a finger, Phillip took care of her, bandaging her hands himself and making sure she would not take a peek at it, for the sight may

Much to her surprise, Phillip could tolerate pain better than she did because he did not seem to be in agony, although his own hand had bled more than hers. After a few days, both felt that their hand was getting better, although it had not healed entirely.

When Aspasia left their camp for the first time in a long time, she wondered if it was a good idea to head back to Jerusalem. Could she possibly see Baldwin and admit she made a pact with Phillip just not to expose her plan? She knew with certainty that Baldwin would be angry at her like she had never seen him before, and it might take a toll on their relationship. It did not make things better that it was her left ring finger. She told herself that she should not be embarrassed to see him if she had a problem but showing him that would only add more stress.

Aspasia arrived in Jerusalem in the evening and found herself staying on a rooftop, watching the sunset. She tried never to look down at her own hand because seeing the bandages repulsed her. She tried to hide her hand between her thighs and avoid moving it too much. With a bit of practice, she realized that she could still fight, holding swords, throwing punches just like before. Whenever she would expose the hidden blade, it would take the place of the finger. The thought of that brought her a bit of consolation.

Evening came, and it got dark quickly. She reflected on whether she should visit Baldwin or head back. She had not seen him in a long time, and she would not be able to explain to him why she did not visit him earlier.

“Aspasia?” a small voice called for her.

The young woman broke out of her trance and looked down over the edge of the rooftop. There stood Arwa, her familiar face bringing her some joy. “What are you doing here?” Aspasia asked.

“I thought I saw you on the rooftop, and I came to see you! I want to climb there too!”

Arwa tried to climb up a cart, then jump on a balcony, but almost fell. Aspasia extended an arm and pulled her up. Arwa laughed, happy with herself for having done such a stunt. “I really want to learn from you how to climb like this. I am not good at running super fast, but I am resistant, and if I fall, it’s alright; I won’t cry.” She sat next to Aspasia and waited for a reply but noticed only a vacant look. “What’s wrong with your hand?” Arwa asked innocently.

Aspasia licked her lips and raised her eyebrows. She tried to come up with an answer, but it took her very long. Arwa sensed that something had happened and instantly regretted asking.

“I… got into an accident.”

“Does it hurt?”

Aspasia moved her fingers as if to check for herself if it hurt her. It felt odd to have an empty space between her middle and little fingers. “I am alright,” she said. The pain had died down a bit, although it was not completely gone. It had not bled in a long time, and Phillip always changed the bandages for the two of them. She could not say that it hurt her too much. Maybe she had gotten used to it and learned how to live like this.

“You have to be careful,” Arwa said. Aspasia assumed that Arwa was repeating her own mother's words because she spoke exactly like Aspasia’s mother would have.

“Yes, of course.”

She wanted to change the topic.

“I assume you haven’t found your father yet,” Aspasia said, “if you are here, with me.”

Arwa looked down, a sad look on her face.

“I asked many people working in the shops in the Muslim quarter if they knew him, but none of them did. Many men like him have the same first name, so I was pointed to check several places, but none of these men were my father. I am growing more and more discouraged.”

Aspasia sighed and rubbed the girl’s back. “At least you are getting on the right track.” It was true, in fact.

“What are you doing in Jerusalem, Aspasia,” asked Arwa, “if you don’t live here.”

Aspasia chuckled, feeling a bit embarrassed. “My love is here, and I try to come here as much as I can to see him.”

“Why are you not with him right now?”

“Because I don’t want him to see my hand and be mad at me.”

Arwa swallowed with difficulty. It was obvious that the girl felt bad for Aspasia. “Well, if you explain to him how it happened and how it was just an accident, he cannot stay mad at you.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” said Aspasia. Baldwin, unlike Arwa, would have created in his mind the worst possible scenarios in his head.

“I am sure that, because he loves you, he will want to help you. If you are nervous, just do like I do: be very nice to him, and then bring it up when you see that he is not too angry. And if you see that he is not taking it well, you can start crying a bit, because if he sees you crying, he will feel bad for contributing to your sadness, so he will try to console you! I used to do that with my mother when she would scold me, and it worked! I can even teach you how to cry on command because I can do that almost perfectly well!”

And Arwa began to speak non-stop once again. The little girl was very talkative. She was an open book, especially to Aspasia, and visibly cared a lot about those close to her. Aspasia would have been annoyed to have her rumble about anything before, but now she had grown fond of Arwa. Seeing the little girl happy made her happy, and she only wished that she could find her father sooner.

“I’m afraid to go see him because I have disappointed him in the past, and I fear that it would make things worse,” confessed Aspasia.

“If he loves you, he will want to help you,” Arwa said, “you should pay him a visit.”

“Tonight?”

Arwa nodded her head.

Aspasia scratched the bridge of her nose. Was it a good idea to listen to Arwa’s love advice? How could a little girl give her insight? Perhaps, she was just telling Aspasia what she wanted to hear. She missed Baldwin and wanted to speak with him. He was probably worried about her because he has not seen her in days. She could imagine how he would react upon hearing that she made a pact with Phillip, but Aspasia could do her best to hide it. "Alright," she agreed, "I guess I will pay him a visit. I just hope everything goes well. I would hate to anger him. He has his own problems to deal with, and I don't want to impose my own on him."

With that, Aspasia got up and left. She would be back and tell Arwa what happened.


	53. Show Yourself to Me

That same evening, Aspasia made her way to the palace using the same passage she always took. She climbed over a wall, got onto a corridor that led directly to Baldwin’s apartments, avoided the guards, got off the other side and circled the tower. Something was different this time. Physicians left the apartments while some were heading inside. Many were new faces that Aspasia did not recognize. This made her worry – perhaps it was not a good time to visit Baldwin. Still, if he was feeling at his worst, she wanted to stay by his side.

When she reached the balcony, she realized she could not get up. Four physicians stood in his apartment, moving between the rooms, each with various tools in their hands. Aspasia got up and stayed against the wall, listening carefully. She could only hear the physicians speak, and so she assumed that Baldwin must have fallen asleep while he was being taken care of. She took a peek inside and saw another physician walk inside, then address another one, and both left together. They will remain there for quite some time, bet Aspasia. She stayed hidden for quite some time, back against the wall, and hiding from patrolling guards who could spot her.

After what seemed like an eternity, most of the physicians had left. Only one remained. Aspasia walked inside the apartment on the tip of her toes and remained in the shadows. She moved across the living room and looked over at the tables. There were many maps, a stack of unopened letters, and wax for the seals that had hardened. Baldwin must have had a busy day, but it did not seem like he accomplished much.

Someone promptly entered the apartments. Aspasia hid in the dark, making herself as small as she could. Tiberias, recognizable by his typical blue cloak, headed toward the bedroom. Inside, he first spoke to the physician. Aspasia tried to listen to their discussion but realized it was in a language in which she did not speak. She watched the physician leave, allowing Tiberias to speak to the King in private. He walked past her, not noticing her. Aspasia watched him head out and turned her attention to Tiberias. He pulled out a chair next to the bed and sat down. Baldwin laid there, under the covers, but Aspasia could not see him, except for a bandaged hand. They began speaking in French, and Aspasia could only try to guess some words, but could not make up anything. As time went by, she began to grow impatient. Tiberias was not leaving. If he stayed any longer, their conversation would exhaust Baldwin and he would be too tired to speak with Aspasia.

Finally, Tiberias got up and wished the King a good night. He walked away, this time, his footsteps were much lighter and quieter. Aspasia watched him disappear and waited for a few moments, knowing that it was safe to come out. When she stepped out of the shadows, she tried to see if Baldwin would notice her. He did not move in the bed. As she approached him, she quickly realized that his bandages were loosened and that his mask has been taken off for him. “Baldwin!” she called him. He did not move, but he was awake still. She did not approach him any further, knowing that he would not have wanted her to see his face. She tried to touch his feet and shake him a bit, but she was not sure if he felt that. “Baldwin?”

Almost instantly, he realized that it was the voice of a woman speaking to him. “Aspasia?” he called in a croaky voice.

Aspasia chuckled a bit and said: “yes, it’s me. Put on your mask, so that I can come.”

Baldwin rolled on the side and picked up his mask from the night-table and put it on. As he finished adjusting it on his face, Aspasia strolled over to the bedside and sat down next to him. She made sure to keep her wounded hand between her thighs, too afraid to show him. Perhaps she could wait longer before having to tell him. The look in his eyes appeared vacant as if he had trouble focusing. Was he feeling tired? Or was it opiates. She looked at his movements, slow and lethargic. Perhaps now was the perfect time to announce him that? When his mind was foggy, and he could not think clearly?

“I have missed you, my love,” he said, smiling behind the mask.

Aspasia leaned down and kissed his forehead. His words alone made her so happy. She took his hand in hers and caressed it with her thumb. He was visibly trying to act his best, even under the effect of drugs, in her presence.

“I feared that I would have to come back another time because your physicians would not leave your side,” she admitted. “Have you not been feeling well recently?”

“My health has not changed,” Baldwin answered.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

As if to betray him, he began to cough. Aspasia rubbed his back, hoping this would help him. He calmed down and laid back on his bed.

“Alright,” Aspasia chuckled, “if you say so.”

As if to change topics, Baldwin asked: “what have you been up to, these past few days? I have not seen you. I find myself wishing you could come to visit me every night, but I am aware that this is not possible.”

It was a hard thing to answer. She could have told him that she spent her days in a depressive mood state, but that would only worry him. “I have not done much,” Aspasia lied, “I repaired a few of my weapons, trained.”

Baldwin nodded and remained quiet. Aspasia could see that he wanted to ask her questions about Phillip but he was not sure if it was a good idea to do that. She took his hand and placed it on her knee. “Don’t worry,” Aspasia continued, “everything has been going great, on my side of things. How is Sibylla? And Tiberius?”

“Good. Both of them.”

“I paid Baldwin a visit, to thank him for the flower.”

“Yes, you told me that. The next morning, he was the happiest I have seen him, in a long time.”

It made her happy to hear this. She wanted things to get back to normal as quickly as possible so that she could come back – if she was welcomed back.

Baldwin tried to sit up and Aspasia helped him by placing some pillows behind him. “I wish you would have come at another time,” he admitted, “when I was not high. I have to be very careful with how I speak and what I say.”

“I understand that you are making a lot of effort just to be awake and speak with me. I don’t mind that you are not in your normal state right now, there is nothing embarrassing about it.” She placed a kiss on his forehead. “I am just happy that I get to spend a moment with you.”

“Thank you,” he said, “I keep getting emotional tonight, over the littlest things. I did not manage to finish my work today, and I asked Tiberias if he could take over for him, just this time. I almost began crying because I have been leaving him to do all of my work, and I could not even answer half of the letters I was supposed to or work on a plan for better fortifications.”

Aspasia gave him a sympathetic smile. “I don’t understand why you want to push yourself to work this much. Please, don’t forget to take care of yourself – of your body as well, not just your soul.”

“I don’t know what is happening to me today. Right when Tiberias came, I was dreaming about Montgisard, and how I had defeated Saladin. I remembered how I looked, and how my disease has started to show but still, you could see that I was meant to be handsome.”

“I don’t need to see it to know that.”

Aspasia understood that he was trying to not cry and attempted to soothe him. She had told him countless of times that she loved him despite the fact that he was hiding behind a mask, but in the end, it was not going to matter if he did not believe this himself. He must have felt like he had been granted a gift and it was taken away from him by his disease.

“It is worst now that I can’t walk without using a cane, and that I need help to get on a horse.”

“Baldwin,” she cupped his face, “you are not less of a man because you can’t do that. In fact, you surpass anyone simply because you had the strength to endure all that and also support people - who are healthy - when they needed help. God has chosen you to carry on the weight of the burden of this kingdom, after everything that has happened in the past century. Isn’t that something? Does that not prove you otherwise?”

Almost as if her words entered one year and exited the other, Baldwin removed her hands from his cheeks and looked down at them. As soon as Aspasia understood what was going on through his head, she retracted her hands. Baldwin was not quick enough to hold them firmly, but he had seen them.

“What happened to your hand?”

“Which hand?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. The left one. Show it to me.”

“Nothing happened.”

Aspasia got up and attempted to take a step back. Baldwin pushed the covers off of him and tried to take a step closer.

“Aspasia,” he said in a severe tone.

“ _Baldwin_ ,” she mocked him.

“This is not funny. What happened.”

She sighed. “Nothing happened. Why must you insist?”

“I must insist because you are hiding something from me. What happened?? Answer me!” She sighed. When she stopped moving, Baldwin tried to grab her hand, but she hid it behind her back. “ASPASIA!” he was growing impatient.

“Don’t get mad at me,” she pleaded him.

He sent her an angry look which she had seen on rare occasions before. Most of the time, that look had not been directed at her. She was reminded of all the times she had messed up, and Baldwin scolded her, only this time, it was worse than before.

Telling him to not get angry barely had an effect. He took her hand in his, holder her firmly by the wrist but inspecting it gently. There were bandages, hidden under the gauntlet, and the fabric was clean, so the bleeding had stopped. “There, are you happy?” she asked, trying to take her hands out of his hand.

“What happened there?”

“I got into an accident.”

“What type of accident? How come you could lose a whole finger in an accident? You used a sharp object to do that! This is not an accident, Aspasia, don’t lie to me!”

She shushed him for he did not realize that his tone was getting louder. “It was an accident. I know, it sounds strange, because I should have normally severed many fingers, but – “

“– quit beating around the bush! That looks like a clean cut. You must have used a sharp object to do that. How did it happen?”

She tried to calm him and placed a hand on his shoulder, but he brushed her off. His rejection hurt her a bit and she was not sure it was shown on her face. Would he calm down before he would alert anyone? “You also lied to me, Baldwin!” she said, “When I asked you about your health, you told me it was getting better, and I know it’s not! There is no point in hiding this from me!”

“You are just changing the subject right now because you don’t like it! For goodness’ sake!! How could this happen to you?? What did you do??”

“It was with Phillip; we made a pact that we would protect each other! I had to do it! I was with him, alone, and if I refused to cut my finger off after he cut his own, then he would have confronted me, and I could not have saved myself! You have to believe me; it was not my choice! I cried about it for many nights and I was not sure I could come to you, because I knew you would react like this! I did this to save myself and to fool him! Wait, are you crying??”

As soon as she said that, Baldwin turned his back to her and covered his face with his hands, hiding his eyes from her. Aspasia wrapped her arms around him, hugging him from behind. She did not know if he would have cried if he was not under the effect of the drugs. By being very emotional, she was about to cry as well.

“Please, stop,” she placed a kiss on the back of his neck, “if you keep crying, I will get sad as well. Come on, it is not a big deal! It is just a finger! I have other fingers and I can still work normally; it is not as if this is stopping me! Please, Baldwin, I cried enough about myself for a few days and I think I made peace with it, but seeing you cry, I will come to regret it again.”

She tried to pull his hands away from his face but seeing that he would refuse to budge, she did not force him. Aspasia circled around him and tried to make him wrap his arms around her but failed to do that.

“Stop crying,” she tried again. This time, she was worried that his cries would attract the attention of any guard. The two argued louder than they thought they were, and Baldwin was not realizing it.

She wanted to bring his attention to how it was not as bad as he made it seem, but he was stuck in this mental loop. “I can’t believe it,” he said between two sobs, “it’s not just any finger, it’s your ring finger! Have you ever thought about that??”

She sighed and closed her eyes. By mentioning this, he was only making matters worse for her. She preferred not to think about it. “It’s not like I will ever get married! I cannot hold a simple and quiet life; you know how I always get in trouble.” There was no point in reasoning with him. He did not seem ready to listen to her. Aspasia tried again to slither in his arms, but he pushed her a bit and turned around. “Why are you doing this? All of that for a stupid finger?”

“You don’t understand,” he said.

“I do!”

“You don’t understand,” he repeated. He began crying again, refusing Aspasia to let him console him. She tried to argue to herself that he was like this because of the opiates but the reality was that he was saying things as they were and as he saw them, without any filter. Would it have been better if he acted more composed and hid his feelings?

“Stop crying, please,” Aspasia said again in a last attempt, “you are making me feel worst. I wanted to forget about it, but now I can’t.”

“I want to kill Phillip,” Baldwin admitted, “I really do.”

Aspasia sighed. She understood the sentiment, but she never thought she would hear anything like this from Baldwin. He was too pure, in her mind, to want to inflict pain or to feel such negative emotions.

Seeing his crying has almost stopped, she took another step toward him. She was unsure if he wanted to be touched or if he was still too angry to even face her. “It pains me to see you cry like this,” Aspasia admitted, “I never wanted to make you cry, I did not expect you will take it this badly.” She circled him and cupped his face. “I will wipe away your tears if I must.”

“I can’t believe you would do this…” Baldwin took her left hand in his and looked at it all over again, as if his eyes have betrayed him earlier or as if the finger would have grown back since then. “I warned you about this! I WARNED you about Phillip! And you did not listen!”

Aspasia shushed him again. He was getting increasingly louder. Baldwin did not take this kindly, and he dropped her hand.

“Can I hold you in my arms?” Aspasia asked. “I don’t want to leave you tonight without having done that.”

“I don’t want to.”

She felt like she was the one who was about to cry. If they ended things badly, it would be harder for her to pay him a visit in the future. Like he had told her before in the past, it was not in her interest to turn him, from a friend, into an enemy. “Baldwin?”

“Mmh?”

“Don’t ‘ _mmh_ ’ me!” she frowned, “will you listen to me?”

“What am I doing just now?”

“You’re being very harsh with me and you keep pushing me.”

“What do you expect? I am very angry! I warned you about Phillip, and you kept saying that you can handle him! And tonight, you will head back to him and nothing will be solved!”

Aspasia froze for a second. Baldwin must have noticed that. She remembered what Arwa said, that if she cried, Baldwin would take pity on her and focus his attention on her, not on his anger. Aspasia realized did not need to pretend to cry because she felt tears build up. It felt egotistic of her to divert the attention onto herself because Baldwin seemed to be the one to suffer the most.

“Oh, here you go,” Baldwin sighed, “I should not be surprised.”

That was the last straw. As soon as he said that, he almost regretted it. Aspasia turned her back and prepared to leave when Baldwin suddenly stopped her: he quickly walked in front of her and put his hands on her forearms.

“I apologize, Aspasia! I did not mean to say this! I want to take it back! It’s the opiates! I can’t think clearly!”

He tried to put his arms around her when she took a step back.

“Please, forgive me!” he mumbled.

“It’s fine,” she dismissed him, understanding of him.

“Then let me hold you.”

She didn’t want to after he had rejected her for so many times. It was his way of showing that he was sorry, but maybe he did not want to hold her truly? She tried to think clearly but, at the moment, it was hard. She covered her face with her hands to hide the few tears that formed in the corner of her eyes. Baldwin tried to take a step forward when she put her arm out between them to maintain the distance. “No!” she sobbed.

“Why not?”

“You are so mean to me.”

Baldwin understood that she pretended not to be affected by what he had said to her. He regretted having spoken to her like that. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated. He sounded sincere to her.

Out of nowhere, a thought crossed her mind. She wiped away her tears and asked him: “show me your face, will you?”

Baldwin remained still like a statue. He looked at her for a long time, as if she was going to further develop what she said, but Aspasia didn’t because she knew she was clear when she asked him that. Finally, after a long moment when both of them were silent, he said: “is that going to resolve the issue?”

“No. I just want to satisfy my curiosity.”

His shoulders dropped. “I cannot do that, Aspasia.”

“Why not?” Seeing he was taking his time to think for an answer, she sighed and took a step back. “ _Oh, here you go, I should not be surprised_.”

Baldwin sighed and said: “I don’t understand... Why now? Of all times. We just fought. What does that have to do with what Phillip did to you?”

“Why not?” Aspasia shrugged. “You showed yourself to Tiberias, to Sibylla… I want to see what you look like. I told you, I cannot be repulsed, if that is your fear.”

Baldwin turned silent for a moment as if he was completely shutting down. Aspasia took his hand in hers and placed a hand on his mask. She felt her heart beat quickly, for a second, and she could not understand why. Eyes locked, and seductively, she made sure she was subtle and gentle when she tried to move the mask slightly off. She really believed that Baldwin needed a little help and encouragement for her. Baldwin was relaxed a bit and admired her face, deep in his thoughts. How long did he need to debate on whether or not he should show her his face? Has he not considered that this would happen, eventually? "Will you ever show yourself to me? she asked him in a whisper.

Almost as if lightning had hit him, he jumped, realizing that Aspasia was about to remove his mask. “STOP! WHAT DO YOU –“

Aspasia jumped back, taken by surprise. She knocked behind her a table, and a vase fell, shattering in pieces as it hit the hard floor. Baldwin seemed to realize for the first time the commotion that the two were causing.

Voices and footsteps were heard from the corridor leading to the apartments. Aspasia’s heart palpitated rapidly. “I must go!”

“Wait!”

“I can’t!”

“Aspasia! I’m so sorry! About everything!” Baldwin cried

He put a hand on her wrist to stop her.

Aspasia looked down and said: “I must go! They will catch me! They will ask you what happened, and you must tell them that you tripped! I am so sorry about this! I love you!”

“What?”

She quickly passed her foot between his ankle and made him fall. He hit the floor loudly. She was not worried for him because he could not get hurt from falling on a carpet. Baldwin tried to get up quickly, but Aspasia indicated him to stay on the ground. “Just tell them you tripped! You tripped on the carpet! They will believe you!” Aspasia gave him an apologetic look, then repeated: “I am so sorry! I love you!”

She did not look behind and ran for the balcony. There, she jumped and made her escape. 


	54. A Best Friend to Talk to

Aspasia was aware that she was taking the chance to go back to the meeting spot she and Arwa agreed on. The probability of finding the girl still there were slim, but she had faith that she would find her there. If Arwa was not sitting there, then she was most likely roaming the streets, back to her usual activities.

When Aspasia got there, as expected, she did not find the young girl. Climbing on that same rooftop, she sat down. She was there for what seemed like a long time, growing more tired and ruminating about the recent events. If she could return to the palace to see Baldwin, she would have done it in a heartbeat. It felt too early to do that, however: Baldwin must have had his physicians with him, checking if he was hurt from the fall and ask him questions about how he lost his balance.

“Oh, you’re back!” a little voice spoke in the dark. Aspasia jumped. A girl with poofy hair appeared. Happy to see that it was Arwa who had found her, she scooted over to the side. She quickly extended her hand to Arwa to help her get up, but the little girl did not require assistance and climbed on her own with more ease than before. before.

“You are getting better and better!” Aspasia commented, a bit smile on her face. Arwa took a seat next to her and Aspasia brought her knees to her chest. “I did what you told me to do.”

“And?”

“And you are _terrible_ at giving advice.”

Arwa puffed and laughed. “And you are terrible at _following it_ , what can I say?” The girl adjusted her position to be more comfortable, feet spread out in front of her and laying back, supporting her body on her elbows. Aspasia told her what happened. Arwa listened attentively and did not once interrupt her. When Aspasia revealed that her love was none other than the King himself, Arwa almost jumped. Her mouth was wide open, and she quickly covered it, shock written all over her face. “No! Noooooooo! No way!!!! You?? Got yourself a love like the King??”

Aspasia rolled her eyes back. “It’s not as ... glamourous as it sounds,” Aspasia admitted. “He is really sick and ... I may have gotten myself into some trouble, meaning that it is difficult for me to pay him visits normally. This is why I have to sneak in, at night.”

Arwa left out a long sigh. She bit her lower lip and said: “I have the impression that you are making a joke and that you will laugh at me after for believing you.”

Aspasia pinched her arm. “This is not a joke! This is real! Are you saying that I am not capable of catching the attention of someone like him? That he is way out of my league?”

“... hey! Don’t put words into my mouth!” Aspasia wanted to roll her eyes at her again. Of course, anyone would think that he was out of her league - and that was also true. “All of this because of your finger?” Arwa asked her finally. “Why would he behave like that.”

Aspasia shrugged. Was it appropriate to mention to the girl that Baldwin was not in a clear state of mind? Surely, she would understand if she explained it to her. “I have to tell you that ... my love is very sick and ... they give him drugs when he is in too much pain. I assume that is why he would lash out like this. I feel terribly guilty right now... It must have been a shock for him and I left so quickly, we did not have the time to properly patch things up.”

Aspasia massaged the area between her eyebrows. Arwa sighed. There was no telling how Baldwin will remember the events of the night. “You will be able to speak to him again, will you?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Then, there is nothing to worry about.”

Easier said than done. “I really wish I could be by his side,” repeated Aspasia, “every day and every night. I worry about his health constantly – I know he will not stay with us for very long, so the time that we spend apart feels like it is being wasted.”

“You will be able to go back to him,” Arwa assured her. “Just apologize for your mistake and forgive him for his.”

“I... will do that.”

Arwa gave Aspasia a hug, taking her by surprise. The young woman looked at the girl and finally hugged her back. Initially, she hated the idea of having someone else depend on her when she knew she could not be a good example for them, but having Arwa around was nearly as unpleasant as she thought. If she had to be her mother-figure temporarily, then so be it. Once Arwa would find her father, Aspasia will be out of her life. "Let’s not speak about this for tonight,” Aspasia said, “it makes me too sad to think about it.”

“Yes,” Arwa agreed, “you already know what you must do and the King, based on what you have told me, seems like someone who is very understandable and forgiving. You will get over this. My mother used to say that there are ups and downs in every relationship, even in hers with my father, so I expect that it is the same thing for you.”

“We should get you a place to spend the night,” Aspasia said, “we should go to the Hospital we went before, the nun who worked there was very nice to take us in.”

“I don’t want to go to sleep yet!”

“What? Why is that?”

“I don’t know...” then, Arwa gave her a cute, sad look and said, “we have way too much fun when we are together.”

Aspasia laughed and sighed. What did Arwa want from her this time? “Let me guess. You want me to tell you a story.”

“No.”

Aspasia was surprised. “That is odd. Maybe YOU want to tell me a story?”

Arwa shook her head. “You told me one time that you would teach me tricks on how to fight or how to do acrobatics like you do. If I am attacked one day, I must be able to defend myself.”

“Mmh...” Aspasia pretended to think, “it is strange because I don’t remember telling you that!”

“Oh, please! Will you not do this for me? It will make me so happy!”

Aspasia hesitated. Seeing this as an indication that she should put more pressure, Arwa hugged Aspasia’s arm and begged her more.

“Fine, alright,” agreed Aspasia. Arwa got on her feet and jumped of happiness. Aspasia told her to stop because they stood on the rooftop of a house, and they risked waking up the family that lived below. “Let’s go elsewhere,” Aspasia said, “climb on my back.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Climb on my back, and we will jump from one rooftop to another.” She got on her knees and bent down. Arwa put her arms around her neck and her feet by her side, which Aspasia grabbed. As soon as she got up, she told her “hold on tight.” She approached the edge, then without a warning, jumped to the nearest rooftop, barely a few feet away. “Are you good?”

“I’m fine!” Arwa promised, a scared look on her face. The first jump was not high. If they fell in the small alley, Arwa would have fallen on Aspasia and left unscattered. However, not every house in Jerusalem was this close to its neighbours. 

Initially, Arwa tightened her grip of Aspasia, scared and regretting having accepted that, but as they progressed, her fear dissipated and she began to enjoy it. Aspasia would climb down a wall, land on a balcony, and from that balcony, jump onto another one so that she could then jump to the next building, and climb it up.

After crossing almost a whole quarter diagonally, Aspasia grew tired, with the extra weight on her back. She found a spot where the two girls could relax and dropped Arwa. “That was so much fun!” Arwa clapped her hands, “thank you, thank you!”

Aspasia chuckled and wiped the sweat off of her brows. “Glad you enjoyed it. This is the first and ... last time probably that I am doing this, with you on my back.” Arwa tried to hide her disappointment. Aspasia passed a hand in her hair and ruffled it. “Don’t make that face. I promised you that I will teach you some fighting techniques, didn’t I? Let’s see how good is your defence.” Arwa got into position like she must have seen in before, with her arms in front of her, forming like a shield. Aspasia corrected her posture and explained to her what she had to do. After a few attempts at giving her instructions, they practiced for a bit. As Aspasia pretended to throw a punch, Arwa blocked every single attack, even the ones that were unexpected. 

The two girls practiced defence, then Aspasia showed her a few ways how to attack someone with various objects which she could get her hands on. Arwa was a smart girl who learned quickly–she was much quicker at learning combat than Sibylla was. When both of them got tired, they laid down on a rooftop and relaxed, looking up at the stars. “Do you see that bird flying over our heads?” Aspasia asked Arwa.

“What bird?”

“Over there,” she pointed with a finger, “I know the sky is dark but if you pay attention, you can see it.”

“Oh, I see it!”

Aspasia told her that it was her bird. Arwa did not believe her so Aspasia whistled and the bird came flying down. It set on Aspasia’s gauntlet and stabilized itself into position. “Do you believe me now?” The young girl had crawled back a bit, afraid of the bird. Aspasia smiled and pet the bird, just to show her that it was safe to do so. “Go ahead,” she encouraged her. Arwa raised her hand and tried to touch Huma’s head, but the bird moved a bit too abruptly, and Arwa jumped. “It’s okay!” Aspasia said. “She won’t harm you.”

“I’m sorry!” Arwa grimaced. Finally, the bird calmed down and Arwa put it on the back. When she realized that it was safe to do, she scratched its neck and chest, and caressed the feathers on the wings. Aspasia wished she had a piece of meat to give to Arwa so that she could feed the bird. “It has never bit anyone, no?”

“No, never.”

“Oh, good.” There was a moment of silence between them where Arwa played with the bird. She looked up at Aspasia and said: “I want a bird just like that when I grow up.”

What use could it be for her? Arwa was going to grow up in a normal house, with her father, she will not live a life similar to Aspasia’s. Still, not wanting to ruin her dream, she nodded and said ‘one day, maybe you will.’

As long as she did not become a mercenary like Aspasia, and lived a normal life. 

It was already very late at night and Aspasia told her it was time to go sleep. She took Arwa to the same Hospital as last time, where they were given a place to spend the night. When offered two beds this time, Arwa insisted that she wanted to share one with Aspasia because it was better than sleeping alone. Aspasia reluctantly agreed, and the girls spent the night in the women’s shelter.

←→

The next morning, Aspasia had to leave Arwa to head back to camp. The little girl held strongly to her hand, not wanting to let her go. Aspasia’s eyes were wide open, confused by that behaviour, because Arwa never acted like that. She was supposed to be feisty and strong, not cry over Aspasia when they parted ways. “Come on, Arwa,” Aspasia sighed, while they stood in front of the gates of the Hospital. “I wish I could stay longer with you, but I have things to attend to.”

“Can I accompany you? I promise I will not complain about everything, the whole way! Even if I really want to!”

Aspasia laughed. “That’s a cute thing to say, but really, I cannot. I will be back, I assure you. And since you have not found your father, then I will have to get involved.”

“Yes! I will give you a detailed description of him!”

Aspasia could not report her to the authorities, but she could try to ask around. Someone in the Muslim quarter must have met him. If Arwa was not mistaken and that her father was still living in Jerusalem, they would find him. Arwa deserved a family and a real home, after everything that had happened to her. "I will meet you again, alright kid?”

“I will find you at our meeting spot. The top of our room is our meeting spot, right?”

“Yes,” Aspasia agreed.

“But it’s a secret! Don’t tell anyone!” Arwa placed a finger on her lips. Aspasia laughed and ruffled her hair. To this, Arwa sighed and rearranged it, but her curls were messy. “Why must you do that...” Aspasia gave her a push to prompt her to leave and waved goodbye, but Arwa stopped and said to her: “you thought me some of your tricks, now it’s my turn to teach you Arabic! If you want to, of course!”

Aspasia smiled. “That sounds lovely. I look forward to seeing you next time, and for us to begin our lesson.”

“You know, when you are not here during the day, I miss you a lot and I am excited to see you.”

“Oh wow, Arwa,” Aspasia half-laughed, “are you trying to manipulate me by saying such cute things?”

In her defence, she cried: “it’s true!!”

Aspasia sighed to herself. She then removed the necklace she wore at her neck. It was a subtle one, with blue rocks. The pain has begun to wash off of them but it still looked nice. There were minor scratches on it that made it unique. It was one of the first pieces of jewelry she ever bought, in Macedonia, and she sold it to that merchant when she arrived in Jerusalem and needed money. She was glad to get rid of it, in reality, that necklace was of no value to her, but if it made Arwa happy, Aspasia was more than happy to give her a second life. “Here you go,” she extended the necklace. It was too big on her and would have easily slipped off. Aspasia told her to be careful not to lose it, and she was not sure if Arwa heard her say that, she was beaming, her smile reaching one ear and the other.

“Thank you, Aspasia! You are much cooler than I thought you were at the beginning!”

Aspasia pinched her. Here Arwa was giving her yet another backhanded compliment. With the necklace at her neck, Arwa hugged Aspasia and left. Before she disappeared in the streets among the crowd, she waved her hand at her one last time. Aspasia sighed, happy to have gotten ridden of her, and prepared to leave Jerusalem to head back to camp. She rode through the desert and reached camp before midday. She found Phillip’s items unattended by the extinguished fire. She set her items and proceeded to clean her weapons. It did not take a long time for Phillip to arrive at camp. He carried a fishing rod and had caught two fish. When he saw her, a smile spread on his lips. Aspasia was not going to lie: seeing him in a good mood also put her in a good mood. “Glad to see you came back,” he said, “and just in time...”

“... to eat-”

“- to _cook dinner_.” Phillip sent her a severe look. Aspasia giggled. She got up and accepted the task. She cut the fish, cleaned them from the scales, while Phillip started the fire so that they could grill them.


	55. A Comb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you LaryssaD17 for helping me with the brainstorming of this chapter! Big kisses!

Aspasia and Phillip spent most of their time training. She paid close attention to his hand, trying to see if he felt any pain when he held weapons or when he had to use it for various tasks around camp. Whether he was hiding it well or it was healed, Phillip seemed fine. In fact, he never even mentioned the incident, as if it had not happened.

Aspasia tried to forget about it but it was a constant reminder that she had made a promise to Phillip which she intended to break. It felt great because it will hurt him twice as hard when she will take her revenge. Oddly enough, she did not feel any more pain, and she had gotten used to it. Certain tasks felt odd, such as holding utensils.

A few days have passed, and they have not left their camp. Aspasia was postponing the time she would have to meet with Baldwin because she feared he would not be too happy with her. After having thought long and hard, perhaps making him fall was not something he would take lightly, considering that she had pushed him out of her way many times in the past. It could not possibly have a toll on his health, but could it be seen as an insult? After all, she did do that to throw off the guards, who would ask the King what that commotion in his apartments was, and he could say that he tripped and broke the vase.

When Arwa told her to simply apologize, it gave her a brief sense of hope, but as time passed, she began to fear that moment. She had to apologize to Baldwin before she met with Arwa. The little girl, knowing her, would require her to tell her what happened, and Aspasia would have to tell her the truth. She had the impression she could not fail Arwa because she was a role model, in her eyes.

That day, Phillip had brought some wood for the fire. Aspasia watched him come and go, either going to pick fruits, or fish, hunt, or cut wood. She wondered what he did throughout the day when she was not at camp herself. Phillip did not ask her, so Aspasia did not think it was fair to ask Phillip. What could he possibly do? He did not know anyone, except her and Kazem, and Kazem was out. She preferred not to bring it up, because Phillip would then ask her where she spent most of her days and some of her nights, and Aspasia would not know how to explain it to him. If Phillip found out Aspasia had a lover, how would he act? Protective of his little sister? Betrayed that Aspasia would give most of her attention to another man when the two siblings made an oath?

One time, out of nowhere, Phillip asked her: “what lies did Kazem say?”

Aspasia stopped for a moment to think. Why bring up Kazem now? The man was dead for a long time, his body most likely decomposed in front of the gates of the Isu vault. “He lied to everyone. About his goal. His allegiance. He made us believe that he was on our side, but it appears that he was on all sides, so that he could come out victorious.”

“He knew about the knights?” Phillip referred to the Templars coming from the Byzantium Empire.

“He knew about the knights.”

As a matter of fact, Kazem knew them personally. He got in contact with Ermis, Aspasia’s father, and told him that two mercenaries have been causing him problems, all to get the red stone from them. Now the stone was gone, still in the vault, and the Apple of Eden was with Saladin, but it could not be used.

“He is the type of person who will use someone else to get their hands dirty for him,” she said, “I hate people like that.”

Phillip sighed. He was just as angry as Aspasia was. Kazem was a close friend to him, before he lost his memories, he still believed. He regretted not having regained his memories before Kazem died, because he could have resolved matters with him.

←→

The time for her to meet with Baldwin came. The more she waited, the worst it was going to be. It was late afternoon when she climbed on her horse and headed for Jerusalem. When she got there, the sky had turned dark. She hurried to the palace to meet with him, taking her usual path to get there. When she climbed that tower, she made sure no guards were posted there and climbed to the balcony. The moment she stepped inside, her heart began beating very fast. She had told herself countless times what to say and how to say it, but now, all of that was forgotten, and she would have to improvise.

When she stepped into the dark apartments, she searched for Baldwin. His desk, since the last time she came, had been cleaned, and the shards from the broken vase had been removed from the floor. A few candles were lit, here and there, but overall, the atmosphere was quiet and dark.

She tiptoed toward the bedroom and found Baldwin laying in the bed. He sensed the presence of someone, because he instantly got up, back turned to her, and put his mask on. When he turned his head to see her, Aspasia gave him a small smile. She was ready to put everything behind her; she had missed him that much. “Aspasia…” It was clear that it was the case for him too.

She ran by his side and wrapped her arms around him, her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad to be back,” she said.

“And I am glad that you came back. I thought I had made you run away for good, and it pained me. I apologize for the harsh things I said last time, I wish I could take them back.”

“I know you didn’t mean them. You’re forgiven, Baldwin, everything is forgiven.”

She was in a hurry to move past that and look forward to the future. When she tried to pull apart, she realized Baldwin was not ready to let go. She allowed him to stay like this a bit longer, his head on her shoulder as well, and relaxed in his arms a bit.

“I did not mean to hurt you when I made you fall,” Aspasia mumbled.

To that remark, Baldwin laughed a bit. “Don’t ever do that again,” he said. He left it at that. Finally, when Baldwin pulled apart, he invited her to follow him to the living room. With no surprise, he led Aspasia to the balcony. He told her to wait there and walked back inside, and came back with a few covers, which he set on the ground.

“What are you doing?” Aspasia asked him.

“I would have wanted to take you outside of the city for stargazing on the dunes, with food and wine, but I, unfortunately, cannot head out and I have not planned it ahead, so the least we can do that here, on the balcony.”

The view was not bad from here. They were above everything else in the city, and from afar, they could see the desert stretch out. The sky was clear tonight, and the stars were visible, although the moon had disappeared.

“Wait for me,” Baldwin said.

“Let me help you!” Aspasia insisted.

“Wait here,” he repeated. He left and came back with pillows, which he set behind her so that she could lean in against the wall more comfortably. “I’m not done yet, give me a moment.” Aspasia watched him leave a third time hurriedly. She wondered what else he needed to bring. He headed to his desk and behind it was a shelf where many manuscripts and maps were stored. There, a wooden plate covered a particular section. He lifted it up, revealing inside stacks of papers. They seemed to have things written or drawn of them, life drafts or important notes that had to be kept. Baldwin looked over his shoulder, to the balcony, and found Aspasia looking at him. “Patience,” he said to her.

“I want to know what you are doing!”

He kept looking through the papers, and finally picked one of them. As he was about to close the wooden door, a wind current came in and carried away some of the papers.

“Let me help you!” Aspasia said, and quickly got up. She picked up the few papers that were carried by the wind before they could fly away. Many of them were drawings of maps, with plans for new infrastructures. There were among them other drawings that looked more personal, sketches of a woman. Some of them looked more complete than others, with different focuses – on the face or the whole body. “Did you draw these?” Aspasia asked.

The more she looked at them, the more she realized that there was an evolution from one to the other. Some of them were almost completed. He seemed to play around with the drawing materials and the textures of the hair, the types of clothes, the facial expressions. They all had one thing in common and that was the woman looked like her.

She looked at Baldwin in surprise and back at the drawing. They had clearly been drawn at different moments in time, almost as if he was trying to practice. She always assumed that his eyesight was getting poorer with time, but still, he was talented. He must have drawn her from memory. It came to no surprise to her because anyone whop was bedridden would have done such an activity.

“I will take it back,” Baldwin came to her and took the drawings out of her hands.

“Hey!” Aspasia said, “they are drawings of me, so it is reasonable for me to keep them!”

“These are just drafts,” he said, “I had to practice in order to give you this one,” and he extended at her a much bigger paper. That one was also lighter in colour and thicker, while the other ones were more yellow and had the edges bent and tiny ink spills. 

“Wow,” she said. There she was, in the drawing, wearing the blue dress she had been given when she arrived at the palace. She wore that one on more than most others because it was her favourite, and perhaps it was Baldwin’s favourite as well. He drew her hair pinned at the back, and it cascaded down to her shoulders in waves. “That’s beautiful,” she said, as she inspected the details of her face and eyes. “And to see that you practiced so much.”

Baldwin rubbed the back of his neck. “You were not supposed to see the others.”

She brought the drawing to her chest and said: “I absolutely adore it. Thank you.”

And with the drawing in her hands, they headed back to the balcony. They arranged the pillows and the cover beneath them so that they would not sit on the cold stone floor. While she spent too much time admiring the drawing, for Baldwin’s taste, he quickly directed the attention to the night sky.

That night, he told her all sorts of stories about the stars, the constellations. He had spent many years, when he was younger, studying them with the help of his tutor, and could use them to help him navigate into the night. Surprisingly, even when his eyesight was deteriorating, in the past years, he could still point Aspasia in the right direction.

Fearing that he might bore her with all the science behind them and facts about astronomy, he tried to tell her a few stories which he remembered hearing and explained to her why the ancient Greeks have given a constellation its name.

“It is crazy to me that I lived my whole life very close to the border and in close contact with the Greek culture, and never learned any of this,” she told him.

“Perhaps those around you did not judge it as something useful to be studied.”

“The myths, perhaps not so much, especially for my line of work, but I would think that using the night sky to find yourself in space would have benefited me.”

“What did you do to overcome this problem, if you did not use the night sky.”

“I would learn maps and memorize everything,” and noting the surprise in Baldwin’s eyes, Aspasia continued: “it took a bit of effort, it is true, but after travelling a lot in the region, it also helps you learn everything much faster. I believe maybe my father knew how to look at the stars and locate himself because I have seen him use a map, a compass, and a telescope before.”

She told him a bit more about her father and her mother. Some of it, Baldwin already knew, but Aspasia had left out some details before, like what Phillip had done to her mother.

Baldwin laid down to rest his head on her lap, and when he did that, Aspasia pulled a cover over him and rested her arm on him.

She told him about her worries, that maybe Phillip did not know it was her mother he has killed, and that he just happened to cross path with a woman, but the more she spoke about it, she realized that her theory was wrong, and even if that was the case, it did not matter. Phillip would have killed an unknown woman, and he would have done it in cold blood, nonetheless. Baldwin stayed quiet for a bit, perhaps too afraid to intervene in her family drama because it was not his place to talk. He had his own problems at home, and he did not like it when Aspasia stepped in, before.

In the end, he did not need to express himself on the topic because Aspasia already knew his opinion. “I will get rid of him,” Aspasia said, as she rubbed her eyelids.

“I’ll be there to help you do that.”

“No, it’s better not.”

“I want to. He cut off your finger.”

Aspasia sighed. She would rather not bring up that topic again. The more she thought about it, the more it hurt her, and it hurt Baldwin even more.

“If you get involved, we would have to go through the justice system, and I am not willing to deal with that.”

“Aspasia,” Baldwin got up slightly, “the Court works for me. I make the decisions here, and the decision in regard to Phillip has been made already.”

Aspasia feared just that. Baldwin may be the supreme leader of the kingdom, but even he was bound by certain rules and conventions. Going through the judiciary system would have to get other men in power involved and they would not take into consideration the past crimes Phillip committed, in foreign countries, but only those in the Holy Land. Baldwin may be pressured into keeping him alive because Phillip could potentially be used to fight against the Muslims if war broke. No justice that they could serve would satisfy Aspasia, and even if it did, she would get wrapped up in the Court’s affairs and be judged for the crimes that she committed.

He must have seen the look on Aspasia’s sad, that he took her hand in his and said: “don’t doubt me, Aspasia.”

She shook her head. “I don’t.”

“I fear that you will still do as you please.”

Aspasia laughed at this. Of course, she would. Anyone who knew her would have guessed that. Baldwin set his head back on her lap. Moments passed; it was quiet. Baldwin must have fallen asleep. Aspasia pulled the cover over him and adjusted him so that his head could lay comfortably on her lap, and she let her head fall back.

She must have fallen asleep too, at some point. It was still night and dark outside. Baldwin looked like he was sleeping fine, but she preferred if he slept in a bed.

Gently, she woke him and said: “let’s get you to bed.”

Groggily, he stood up with her help, and Aspasia led him back to his room. She picked up, after, the pillows and covers from the balcony and set them on a canopy. Someone would deal with them later.

“Are you going to leave yet?” Baldwin asked, his eyes barely capable to staying open.

Aspasia wanted to stay more, but she would have to leave. If she stayed more, she would sleep until morning came, and guards would catch her.

“I must go, unfortunately.”

“Before you go,” Baldwin said. Aspasia protested when he got up from bed but let him head to his desk. There, he opened a drawer and came back to her with a small box, about the size of a hand. “I want you to have this.”

“What is it?”

“You must open it to find out,” he said like it was the most logical thing to do.

The box was nicely crafted and had a ribbon attached around it, with a pretty bow. Was it Baldwin who made it himself? With his crippled and ruined hands?

“It’s … something I bought a long time ago,” he added, “open it, first, then I will tell you it’s history.”

Aspasia did just that. Inside it, she revealed a comb, made of wood, light in colour. It was quite small and very fragile looking. Pieces of pearl abalone shells decorated it, making a small mosaic. The work done was quite rustic and artisanal, but very romantic and feminine.

A smile grew on her face. “A drawing, and then a comb,” she said, “you really know how to make a girl happy.”

“I’m glad to hear that you like them. Both.”

“I really do. They are very thoughtful gifts.”

“This comb, I bought it during a trip to Constantinople, many years ago. My disease did not appear yet at the time, and I hoped I could gift it to a pretty girl when I would have the opportunity. Of course, it was my tutor, and not I, who paid for it, and gave me the idea to do just that. But later, the first symptoms of my leprosy were visible, and the rest is history.”

Aspasia chuckled. “That is a very lovely story. Why not gift it to Sibylla, or Isabella, or even your mother?”

“They already have everything they need. A comb will not mean much to them. Besides, they prefer other types of gifts, more extravagant. Jewelry makes them happy, and you and I are not… people who typically wear a lot of jewelry.”

It was true. Although Aspasia loved her necklaces from Macedonia, she rarely wore them. It was not practical when she was working, and she never had the occasion to wear them. There was a third argument, and it was that in front of Baldwin, she was quite ashamed to wear something that looked cheap and old.

“I love it,” Aspasia said. She wrapped her arms around his back. They stayed a bit like this until Aspasia pulled away and reminded him that he needed to go back to sleep. She sat at the edge of her bed, as Baldwin laid there.

“When will you leave?” he asked her.

“Only when you are in a deep sleep.”

“You know,” Baldwin said, “I hate to bring up the topic of marriage, especially after what happened to your hand… But I was thinking about this. I know that I will not stay with you long enough to ask you to marry me, and I will not put you through that, because it would be unfair of me, but I really want you to consider finding someone.”

“I don’t plan on looking for anyone,” Aspasia said, in a serious tone, “especially since I am with you.”

“I can ask Tiberias to find you someone. You can marry into nobility, and live in a nice castle, somewhere around Jerusalem. There are many noblemen who are looking for a woman to marry. I am willing to give you a sum of money and other goods if it would facilitate the process so that you can find a good husband and quickly.”

Pay the man money so that he could think that he gained something from marrying Aspasia? That was the harsh reality of the times. Why did Baldwin insist that she marry someone? And why someone who was wealthy and noble? Not that Aspasia was opposed to the idea, but she wanted her life to take a natural course. If she had to look for someone else to love, when Baldwin would be gone, she would want a love similar to what they had.

“I would… rather not think about something as dark as that.”

“As dark as what?”

“As dark as your death.”

Baldwin sighed. “I know it is unpleasant to speak of that, but we must have that conversation. Some day, you would wish you would have been prepared for that. I hate speaking about it too, but I know that my death is imminent and that I must make sure all my affairs are concluded. It would bring me peace to know that you will be alright, after all. Tiberias will take good care of you.”

She understood what he meant by that. He must have been worried about so many other things, such as local politics, wars and conflicts with the neighbouring nations, the barons in his own court who plotted against him or his sister that did nothing to assist him. At least, with Aspasia, he would know that she was in good hands and walking toward a better future.

“I don’t want to marry anyone else but you.”

Baldwin sighed.

“Me too, but you know that it will not be possible.”

“Even if it is a short marriage, I am happy with it.”

She suddenly stopped, realizing she was pushing onto him a request which even she knew could not be met.

“I know what you will say,” she said, “that your life is short, but believe me that mine is too, and for different reasons.”

“Which is why it is not too late to change now.”

She sighed to herself. Baldwin disliked it when she did that: leave for later the important conversation. With her, everything was improvised. He also despised how she gave her dream, which she once told him about. When she came to Jerusalem, she did not have any goals to pursue, and when she met him, she decided to support his, because he inspired her, but what about what _she_ wanted?

“I will speak to Tiberias about you coming back and finding you a permanent home,” he told her. Indirectly, he was asking her permission to do that.

Aspasia nodded. “I will discuss things with Tiberias when the times come. Right now, no man in their right mind would be satisfied with me,” she laughed. Baldwin laughed too. It was true, she needed to learn many things in order to fit with the nobility. Sibylla would help her, undoubtedly.

Baldwin closed his eyes and relaxed. Aspasia had trouble keeping her eyes open, listening to his slow breathing, and relaxing into the comfortable bed. She wished she could have stayed with him, but she did say she was going to leave when he fell asleep.

Right before leaving, she woke him up so that he could take off his mask. When she turned her back, he took it off, placed it on the table beside his bed and went back to sleep. Aspasia did not stay any longer. She headed to the balcony and jumped. Making her exit, she crossed the fence and disappeared in the small alleys.

While she was still there, she wondered if she would be seeing Arwa this time. It was very late at night, maybe even almost morning, so she doubted she would find the girl at their secret spot. Still, she decided to take a chance and visit it. When she arrived at that particular building, she realized that the boxes and carts that were set there, which Arwa used to help herself climb, have been removed. Maybe it was someone who lived in the area who had them moved elsewhere. Aspasia could still climb it, with a bit more effort and difficulty, but could Arwa do the same? The girl might not, she needed more training in order to do that.

Aspasia thought for a second. Could this mean that they would need to establish a new secret spot, which Arwa could easily have access to? Perhaps she could look through the city and try to find a new place. She went back to her horse, thinking about it.

Finally, when she found her horse, tied to the pole where she left it, with water, she climbed on it and headed for the gates of the city. On her way there, she passed in front of the Hospital where Arwa and she had spent the night twice. Could Arwa possibly be sleeping on the streets tonight? There was no way to be sure. She had slept outside so many times, and still, Aspasia felt horrible, thinking about it, she was considering paying the nun who worked at the women’s shelter to have a bed reserved for Arwa, with shower and food. If Aspasia could even ask the nun to give Arwa a job, the little girl could easily earn some money by doing dishes, washing clothes and bedsheets, or scrubbing the baths. At least, until she found her father again.

When she reached the gates, the ride to camp was going to be quick, Aspasia knew. It was especially the case at night when the traffic was very low and few, rare caravans would head to the Holy City. Night travellers were not uncommon, but those who travelled solo, like Aspasia, were.

She reached camp right before dawn. She arrived at camp and found the fire was still burning, but weakly. Many of their items were still there but left unattended. Phillip must have been late, back to camp. She knew that he moved around on his own, during the day, but Phillip was always back at night. Puffing and tired, she added some wood to the fire and wrapped herself in some covers to keep herself warm. Soon, it would be sunshine, and she would have to get up again, despite having slept so little.


	56. Little Blue Stones

Right when Aspasia finally closed her eyes and relaxed, she heard someone drop a bag on the floor. She jumped and looked up, seeing Phillip standing above her. “I beat you to camp,” she joked.

“Shit! I’ll just have to do better next time,” he then laughed. He looked at the fire that burned more brightly, and then at Aspasia. “Should we keep it or not? It will be morning soon.”

“Extinguish it if you want.” And so, Phillip extinguished it. After he did that, he moved to his own spot and he wrapped himself in the covers. Without adding another word, both went to sleep.

They slept through the morning.

The sun was shining brightly above their heads. Aspasia felt her mouth dry and searched for the waterskin. When she drank from it, hot water came, as someone had forgotten it under the sun, instead of placing it in the shadows. She then went to the river that was not far from their camp to wash and came back to eat. Phillip had just woken up and placed his arm on his face to keep the light from getting in his eyes.

“I’ll prepare breakfast, go wash yourself,” Aspasia said. She prompted him to get up so that she could wrap the covers and store them aside. While Phillip was gone, she prepared their food. When he came back, everything was ready.

In silence, they ate. Finally, when they finished, Aspasia washed their dish and packed everything. “What will you do today, sister?” Phillip asked.

Aspasia shrugged. “Perhaps head to Jerusalem. I can look for some jobs there, where they post announcements. We need more money right now.”

“I must head to the city as well because I want to repair the scabbard. As you can see,” and he shows her the scabbard with the sword still in it, “it’s broken here … and here …”

“How did that happen? Aspasia looked up at him.

“The leather was not properly maintained, and the sewing had some imperfections. It was bound to break at some point. I don’t know when and how that happened exactly, however.”

“If you want to, you can head to Jerusalem with me,” Aspasia invited, “if you think it’s not too dangerous for you.”

“I will go, but I won’t stay with you, because we might get caught if we are spotted together.”

Aspasia nodded at him. They were still wanted people. Alone, no one paid attention to them. They have never travelled together in Jerusalem before, however, and so they had to be careful.

When they finished packing their items, they climbed on their horses and headed to the Holy City. It must have been the worst time of the day to travel. The sun was hostile. They covered their head with a scarf and would drink water constantly. When they neared the city gates, Phillip told her that he will let her head there first, and he will wait for her to get inside before he went to, so that the guards at the gates would not stop them.

Aspasia went ahead first. She entered thought the southern gates and dropped her horse at the stables. As soon as she finished paying, she saw Phillip coming through the gates. They spotted each other and nodded their head, then headed their separate ways.

In the sky, Huma flew in circles. Aspasia mingled in the crowd, heading to the piazzas where she could look on forums for jobs. Huma began to let out cries, as if to catch her attention. Aspasia frowned and wondered if Huma had spotted a prey or got involved in a fight with another eagle.

Huma stopped flying in circles and headed toward the east. Aspasia stopped from her tracks, a few people bumping into her. She was in no hurry that day, so should she follow Huma? Was the bird trying to communicate with its master? Finally, Aspasia took a turn into a dark alley and headed east as well. Realizing that the streets were busy and filled with people, she thought it would be much faster if she travelled from one rooftop to another. And so, she climbed up. When she reached the rooftop, she searched the sky for her eagle. When she spotted it, she followed it.

Jumping from one rooftop to another, Aspasia made her way across a quarter, avoiding the crowds of people animals. Finally, she made her way to a small piazza, where a crowd of people had gathered around in one corner. Something must have happened there, to catch their attention. Two guards arrived and tried to dissipate the crowd, but people would not budge.

Aspasia realized that she could not see what had caught their attention as long as she stayed above. She quickly climbed down the building, rolling on the ground. She then ran toward the crowd, past the guards, and snaked her way between people. “Move! Out of the way!” she said. Finally reaching the end, she found herself standing in front of a gross sight of a mutilated body.

Her heart stopped when she saw that it was the small body of Arwa, drenched in her own blood, that had started to coagulate by now. A small swarm of flies flew around the body. Cuts ran deep in her stomach and chest, her clothes had been soiled and damaged, and pieces of her hair were scattered from the ground as if someone had pulled her by the main in her fight. She looked at the area around her neck and could not see the necklace she had given the girl.

Suddenly, voices shouted something in Arabic. A group of men pushed people from the crowd aside, and another one appeared running, followed by two other men. “Arwa! Arwa!” he shouted, among other things. Aspasia watched the man let himself fall by the side of the body, trying to shake it as if it would magically gain life again. Another man put his hands on his shoulders and pulled him back. The body must have been left there for a long time and discovered only in the morning. The group of men spoke and shouted in Arabic, while the one who had fallen next to Arwa wept inconsolably. Aspasia quickly took a few steps back and ran away, leaving the scene behind. At least Arwa’s father finally found her.

She tried to look down so that people who walked on the streets would not see her cry. It was becoming unbearable, to hold her tears. She began to wonder who could have done that to a little girl. All of that for a necklace that was worth nothing? Did Arwa make enemies? Did she bother someone to the point that they would shred her little body? How come Aspasia knew nothing? Why would Arwa wander on the opposite side of the city, where she and Aspasia never bothered to venture?

She climbed on a rooftop again, where she knew no one could find her, and sat down, her feet dangling, and began to cry. She had no handkerchief to wipe her tears and nose, no one with who she could share her pain with, and no one who to blame for the crime. She wished that Baldwin would have been here with her. He always had the right words to make her feel better.

“What are you crying about?” a voice called her.

Aspasia jumped and looked behind her. There, stood her father, whom she did not expect to see.

“YOU!”

She got on her feet and jumped at him. Without missing a beat, he caught her arm and twisted it behind her. Aspasia left out a cry of pain and he dropped her. Aspasia fell on the ground, but rolled on the side, then charged at him again. Ermis blocked her attack and kicked her far away from him. Aspasia landed on her back, the shock made all the air in her lungs leave her body all at once. She began to cough and gasp for air.

“What is your problem?” Ermis exclaimed, surprisingly calm.

“YOU KILLED HER!”

“Who?”

“ARWA!! THAT LITTLE GIRL!! AND YOU TOOK HER NECKLACE!! YOU KNEW IT WAS MINE AND YOU TOOK IT FROM HER!!! HOW DARE YOU!!!”

She charged at him again, this time, her father put a stop to it. He blocked her attack, made her turn so that he held her firmly against his body, and made her trip on her feet. Then, he grabbed her by the hair and hit her head on the tiles, almost knocking her unconscious.

Without letting go, he held a strong grip around her neck, pinned to the ground. Aspasia could not stop the stream of tears, her cheeks were soaked completely, and she did not care about what was happening.

“You will calm down right now and tell me what the hell is going on with you.”

Aspasia would have attacked him again, but he kicked her in the ribs, and she rolled on the side, defeated.

He lifted her upper body up by the collar of her shirt and shook her a bit. “You’re refusing to talk?”

She spits in his face saliva mixed with a bit of blood, and he smacks her across the face.

“Fucking bitch,” he cursed at her.

“You killed her!!”

“I didn’t kill anyone!” he shouted back.

Aspasia cried some more, trying to cover her face with her hand. Her father puffed and watched her sob hysterically. “That’s right. Cry now, so that way, you will piss less later.” He looked at his daughter, who probably had not heard him. He ended up looking through his pockets for a handkerchief. When he found one, he threw it at her face. ‘Who died? Who is Arwa?”

“My friend. She was a little girl. Such a sweet and smart little girl. You killed her and you took her necklace!”

“I didn’t kill anyone!! What don’t you understand???”

Aspasia calmed down a bit, but it did not seem that she was willing to listen to him, thought Ermis. He watched his daughter attempt to sit up, but all her energy was put into sobbing. He had seen her cry like this, and going berserk, before. When her mother died and Aspasia arrived at camp with her father, she cried like this for a week, most knights and squires who lived there confused and even amused by her.

“You’re a grown-up, Aspasia. Quit acting like this. What in the hell happened?”

He forced her to sit up. She threw back at him the handkerchief, humid from the tears and dirtied a bit by blood. Ermis was not going to keep it, and he threw it away, scoffing.

Aspasia brought her knees to her chest and buried her face. She was shaking entirely and rocked herself back and forth to soothe herself. Obviously, Ermis was not someone she wanted by her side because everyone knew that he was not good at consoling people.

Her father walked toward the edge of the rooftop and watched more knights gather in that area. Someone came in with a piece of white cloth, in which they were going to carry the body away. “Your friend died in that alley?” He looked over to Aspasia, who completely ignored him. Ermis sighed. He walked over to his daughter and put his big hand on her back. “Stop crying.” It sounded more like a command than anything else. “Let’s pray for her soul. She died only last night, her soul is still among us right now. We can help her reach Heaven much quicker if we pray.”

He forced Aspasia to sit up straight and instructed her to get on her knees. He got on his knees next to her, and he brought Aspasia’s palms one against the other because Aspasia seemed to no longer function properly, and began praying:

“ _Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name;_

_thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in.”_

He glanced at her, to see if she was praying with him. Seeing her all quiet, he elbowed her, and Aspasia began saying the prayer with him, in unison:

“ _Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us;_

_and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil._

_Amen.”_

When they finished the prayer and crossed themselves, Aspasia had briefly stopped crying. She was still fragile, as she could break into tears at any second. Luckily, the hot sun above their head made everyone tired, including Aspasia.

“Let’s move from here,” Ermis said, and he gave her a kick in the lower back, “the sun is too hot for us to stay out.”

“No.”

“Aspasia.”

“No.”

“Don’t be unreasonable.”

“Fuck off.”

He slapped the back of her head. Aspasia left out a cry in pain. Ermis forgot he had smashed her head against the tiles earlier, and it would have hurt her more than he intended it to.

“Don’t waste my time, Aspasia.”

“Then fucking go! GO!! WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE??”

“So you will let me go without a fight?”

“YOU SAID YOU DIDN’T FUCKING KILL HER!! DON’T TEST MY LIMITS, I’M READY TO MURDER ANYONE AND EVERYONE RIGHT NOW!”

The tears came out again.

Ermis sighed.

“Someone else must have done it. Could it have been a stranger or someone who is after you?”

“I don’t fucking know…” she mumbled, and sniffed, her runny nose and teary eyes preventing her from speaking properly. “They took a necklace I gave her. It was trash, not worth a coin. I can’t believe it. It’s my fault, I put her in danger…”

“You didn’t do anything, Aspasia. Pull yourself together already.”

“FUCK YOU!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!”

Another slap across the face.

Aspasia cried more. She used her sleeves to clean her face. Ermis watched his daughter, unsure of what to do at this point. Her mother had more control over her than he ever did, but she was not there to help him and he could not simply take on her role. His daughter has crossed him out the first time she saw him, and he was not particularly fond of the idea of bonding with her. He has had men under his orders who obeyed him at all times and did not question his authority, nor tested his limits the way she did. Men like Akakios, whom Aspasia hated more than anything.

“With you, Aspasia, it’s always one step forward and two steps backward. People think that you are making progress and you always disappoint them. It has always been this problem with you. It was a problem in Macedonia, and it is a problem here as well.”

“Get. Lost.” These words hurt her more than expected.

“This is why you always make more enemies than allies. You are just so difficult to get along with. People are chased away and don’t even bother to want to get to know you.

Aspasia bit her tongue to not reply. Her urge was to shout more profanities at him, but the more she engaged, the longer he would remain there.

Finally, when her father saw that he got no reaction from her, he left. Aspasia listened to his footsteps disappear in the distance, and remained there for a while, just to make sure he was gone for good. When she finally got tired of staying there, she stood up and dusted herself off. Her butt hurt and her limbs felt sore.

She wandered aimlessly around the city until it got dark. On many occasions, she had simply found a spot where she could lay and look at the sky. She walked from one quarter to another to kill time, thinking that she could pay Baldwin another visit, that night.

She found a well and washed her face with the water there. It made her feel a bit better with herself, physically, but the pain she felt inside was the same one she felt when her mother was gone, and Aspasia first realized it was for good.

“What are you doing here?” a familiar voice called her.

Aspasia turned around, her face soaking wet, and found Phillip, his bag on his shoulder. She was glad to see him, even though she would have preferred to see Baldwin at the moment. “We cannot be seen together.”

“What is wrong with your face? You look puffy,” he commented, ignoring her remark.

She swallowed her saliva with difficulty. Could she tell him about what just happened? She would have to tell him her whole history with Arwa, in that case, and she was not sure she was ready to do that.

“I had a rough day,” she said.

Phillip approached her and inspected her face. “Yes, I can see. You took a beating or something?”

Aspasia cleared her throat. “I may have.”

Phillip sighed. “I can’t believe it; my little sister allowed herself to be beaten. See, you have been slacking off from practice! You must train regularly.”

She tried to laugh a bit, but it came out awkward. “I … will do that, from now on.”

“I assume you have not found a job for today,” Phillip said and gave her a questioning look. Seeing that Aspasia could not answer him directly, he continued: “that’s fine. You will have more luck next time.”

“I certainly… hope so.”

“How about we sit down and eat? I did not eat since the morning. A merchant at the market sold many vegetables and fruits, and they had an etrog. Do you know it? It’s the fruit that the Jews eat. I have never tried it and I was curious. I also got meat, but I don’t know if the quality is the same as the one I found in Syria. It doesn’t matter. We will grill it and it will taste exactly like that. Sit down, and help yourself,” he got her to take a seat at a bench and left his bag next to hers. “I will go wash at the fountain over there, I will be back in a second.”

He opened his bag so that Aspasia could see what was in, and quickly ran toward the fountain he told her about, which was located on another street. Aspasia looked inside and found a few bags with fruits, including two etrogs, which reminded her of lemons. As she dug inside the bag, something caught her attention. It was a blue, tiny stone, with a hole inside for a string to go through. And the more she looked inside the bag, she found more of these. Finally, she found a broken chain with a few stones on it, and the clasp was intact. It must have broken itself while in the bag, as it was simply shoved in without any care.

Aspasia felt her knees grow weak. She dropped the broken necklace back inside and closed the bag. Tears began to build up in her eyes, as she refused to believe it. Everything was clear now. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense, and little by little, she could form a hypothesis in her head that made sense. Could Phillip had done this to Arwa just to take back that necklace? Was it justifiable? Or did he fought Arwa and decided to loot her body once he killed her?

She dropped everything. The bag fell and spilled its content on the ground. She quickly picked up as much as she could, placed it inside the bag, and ran before Phillip could come and find her. She was going to come up with an excuse later, but the truth was that she was afraid for herself, to be with him, alone, at the moment.


	57. Events of the Night

She reached Baldwin’s apartments right the instant when his physicians left. Making her way inside, she was lucky to find him still awake, seated on the canopy. As he was about to get up, Aspasia quickly made her presence known. “You’re back!” he said, and suddenly, he stopped, “Are you crying?” She made her way to him and pulled him into an embrace. Surprised by this, he froze for a moment but ended up reciprocating. She placed her head on his shoulder and held him close, not wanting him to see her face when she was about to begin crying. “Tell me what happened,” he encouraged her. “Aspasia,” then he rubbed her back.

“Oh God… I don’t even know where to start…”

He invited her to sit down on the canopy with him. Aspasia told him everything, from when she met Arwa, how she saved the girl’s life, how they became friends and about Arwa’s father being still in Jerusalem. She then told him about the corpse they had found in that small street and how Aspasia saw in Phillip’s bag her blue necklace, the present she gifted the little girl, broken because he must have shoved it in the bag carelessly. Baldwin sighed loudly when Aspasia described the body, perhaps imagining for himself the sight. As soon as she began to cry again, he put an arm over her shoulder and passed his bandaged fingers through her hair. “I am so sorry about this,” he kept repeating her.

“I know… that you want to say something about Phillip and how … he must be dealt with… As soon as we can… Believe me, I know. I want to kill him myself… But can we please not talk about… how it was a mistake to keep him alive?...”

“I wasn’t going to,” Baldwin answered, “I can see how affected you are, by this.” He noted that Aspasia appeared to have some superficial bruises – the ones she had gotten from her father. He offered to bring her a medical kit so that she could bandage herself, but Aspasia refused. “What… happened to Arwa exactly?”

“What do you mean?”

“What… made him kill her?”

“I don’t know… They never met and … they never knew I knew the other. Phillip could have not known Arwa because I never spoke of her to him and … that little girl was such a sweetheart, she could never anger anyone to the point they will murder her in cold blood.”

“Could it be possible that he did that to get to you? Or maybe was Arwa at the wrong place, and the wrong time?”

“I don’t know… I can’t even imagine what Arwa would be able to say to someone like Phillip, to provoke him. She is smarter than I, and would have known to stop before it got out of hand…” Could it have been Phillip who picked a fight over the necklace maybe? Arwa would have tried to hold onto it, for sure, but if she knew her life was in danger, she would have given it up and cried to Aspasia after. “Can you hold me on your lap the way you stayed on mine, last time I came here?” Baldwin set a pillow on his lap for Aspasia to rest her head on and picked up some covers to wrap her up in. “I cried a lot today, I don’t think I have any tears left in me to cry even more if I wanted to.”

“I am so sorry, Aspasia. I… am at a loss for words. I will pray for Arwa. We can pray for her together.”

“I… would love that. Thank you, Baldwin.”

And just like she did with her father, she sat up straight, closed her eyes and brought her hands together in front of her. This time, Baldwin led the prayer and said it in Latin. Aspasia said it under her breath in Greek, and at the end, they crossed each other. After that, they stayed like that, in silence, each in their own head. Aspasia thought that she was a terrible guest, to come and impose all her problems onto him, but she had wanted to have him by her side since she discovered the body.

She thought about what she was going to do that night. She would have to leave Baldwin, eventually, even if she didn’t want to. Where could she sleep? The Hospital? It would bring her to tears to walk into the same place where she and Arwa went to multiple times before. It was too soon for that. She could not possibly return to Phillip, she was scared to be right next to Arwa’s killer. Knowing herself, things would take a turn when she would mention the necklace in the bag, and it would end in a fight.

She hung her head low. It felt awful to think this after she had said a prayer to God, but she wanted to murder him herself and get rid of him. Baldwin would have scolded her, even if he felt the same way. This time, it felt worse than when she lost her finger because she could live with a missing finger, but without Arwa, it felt impossible. The sad part was that she was willing to give up everything with Baldwin just to avenge Arwa and punish Phillip. Baldwin insisted that Phillip had to be brought to justice, but the judicial system was flawed, and no amount of debate could bring him the punishment he deserved. “I really wanted to partake in your dream… but I fear that it may not be possible for me to do that.”

“What do you mean?” Baldwin asked.

“Your dream of … a better kingdom. I cannot possibly expect to make a positive change if I know that I will do murder in the future. Which is why I will be stepping away from this, for good.”

Baldwin sighed and brought Aspasia in his arms. She laid down on his lap again and he wrapped her up in the cover again. “Please, don’t make any important decision while you are mad. I understand how you feel completely. I wanted to kill him too when he cut your finger, and I don’t think he deserves any mercy for what he has done. But please, don’t go work on this alone. I am here to support you and you can rely on me, the same way you wanted me to rely on you in my weakest moments.” He placed a kiss on her forehead and asked her: “where is the comb I gave you?”

She pointed him to her bag, which was at their feet, and he picked opened it and fished out the comb, then began brushing her hair with it. It felt nice, like a massage, and the fact that it was him made it even better. Could she also see his hair – at least his hair – someday?

“I don’t want to return to camp tonight,” she said, standing up a bit so that their faces could be on an equal level. “I wish I could stay here, with you.”

“You are more than welcomed to do that.”

“But we will get caught and I will be in trouble.”

“That’s… something we will have to deal with, yes, but we can make it work.”

Aspasia sighed. “I’m still not convinced this is a good idea.”

She was not sure what she wanted herself. Could she stay there, for the night? Would it not be breaking boundaries? He would not be able to sleep well, because he will want to keep his mask on.

“Stay here for the night,” Baldwin insisted again. And if he kept doing that, Aspasia might just give in. Could she sleep on the floor? It would be better than camp, in any case. “Will you?” he took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

Aspasia sighed and rubbed her eyelids. “How are we going to do that, with your mask?”

“I don’t mind wearing a mask if it means I get to spend more time with you.”

“That’s… really sweet of you,” she said.

She looked over to his bedroom. He had a large bed, and Aspasia did not mind sleeping opposite of him, and keep her back turned to him. She could also use a sheet to cover him, so that way, he could sleep without a mask and not reveal anything.

Baldwin watched her debate in her mind. He would not have wanted to let her join back Phillip, but could he stop Aspasia when she wanted to do something? He got up and extended a hand to her. “I will wake you up before the servants come in. You can sleep peacefully. I am sure you have not slept in a real bed for a long time.” And that was true. She slept on a few occasions in a Hospital, but that was with Arwa, and both were cramped in a single bed, Arwa had her arm and leg over Aspasia, and her body got really hot and sweaty at night. Aspasia complained about that in the past but right now, she would even say that she missed having her, by her side, holding onto her as a little animal would hold onto its mother.

Finally, Aspasia followed Baldwin to his bedroom, where she helped him set the pillows so that they could both sleep nicely. He added another cover, one for her, and brought some white, linen sheets to wrap himself in, so that he could take off his mask and his gloves. Aspasia took off her shoes, weapons, belt and her cloak. She set them on the table, within arm’s reach, and kept her hidden blade on her. When Baldwin laid down next to her, she gave him a kiss and then helped him pull the sheet over him. He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt a bit, loosened some bandages, and took off his mask. “Are you keeping your gloves?” Aspasia murmured. He hesitated for a bit and took them off too. She placed a kiss on his shoulder blades and said: “I promise I won’t peak. Thank you for allowing me to stay here tonight.”

“Thank you for accepting," he responded. She turned her back to him and closed her eyes. She listened to his breathing, somewhat heavy and difficult, but still calm. His health was deteriorating with time, he was very different from the time when she first met him, and it pained her a bit. There will come a time when he will also be gone, and she would have to move forward, but forward to what? With whom? She began to fear that she may not have told him that she loved him enough, or that she did not come to visit him enough. “I’m sorry for what the situation has come to be,” she admitted.

“Mmh?”

“Strangely… I don’t regret having saved Phillip’s life… It allowed me to uncover some secrets… About the world and about my own family. I understand things better now… I regret having let things spin out of control. My finger… Arwa…”

“I… can’t say I don’t understand you… Still, as the King… I have to position myself in this conflict and take a side.”

“I promise that I will listen to you, from now on. Everything you say, I will execute, no questions asked. I will be obedient, and I will not anger you anymore.”

Baldwin sighed. “I… am fine with the way you are,” he said, “even though you know how to get on my nerves sometimes,” he chuckles, “I appreciate you wanting to change for the better… but I am not asking you to turn into a dog or a horse that obeys its master and cannot form its own opinion.” But her opinion always led her to these situations. Even her father has spoken some truths today. She put a hand over her face, trying to prevent herself from crying. Baldwin sensed that she was sobbing, and he put a hand on her back, without turning to face her. “You told me what your father has said to you. Forget about it. Please, try not to ruminate too much and get some rest. We will figure out a solution together, tomorrow.”

She nodded her head and tried to relax her body. Baldwin turned slightly and whispered to Aspasia ‘don’t turn around.’ Having said that, he put an arm around her loosely. If Aspasia looked down, she could have seen his hand, exposed to her, but decided against doing that.

She must have fallen asleep before Baldwin because she did not remember much after that. Morning came, and Aspasia woke up feeling something shift in the bed. Baldwin rolled on the side, looking for something on his night-table, and relaxed again. Aspasia turned around very slightly, and seeing that Baldwin was not saying anything, she turned around completely. When she saw his face, he was wearing a mask and finished putting his gloves on.

“How did you sleep?” he asked her.

She smiled and said: “good, but it was a dreamless sleep…” She put an arm around him and rested her head beside his stomach.

“That means you had the opportunity to rest.” Which was true. If Aspasia had dreams, it would have been nightmares, of Arwa and of Phillip. The images of Arwa’s body and her father crying came back to mind. At that moment, Baldwin moved around aside a piece of her hair, then another, trying to arrange it for her. It was still very early; the castle was asleep.

Aspasia rolled on the side and closed her eyes for a bit. She felt at peace, there. Morning in the King’s apartments was perfect, with the sunlight illuminating and warming the rooms and a beautiful view by the window of the city and the desert, in the far distance. What would come of this place, when the King would die? Would the next king move in? Would it have the same warmth and feeling attached to it?

Suddenly, Baldwin jolted. Aspasia stood up, confused by his sudden reaction when she realized what made him react like this. Footsteps could be heard from the living room. A man appeared, followed by two others.

“Aspasia??”

She groaned when she heard Tiberias call her. She could still escape, but Baldwin placed a hand in front of her, telling her to stay there. He was going to deal with the Marshall.

Tiberias did not attempt to arrest Aspasia however. He stayed where he was and nodded to the physicians who have accompanied him to take in charge the King.

“It appears that I am interrupting something,” he said in a severe tone, “but I came to fetch you quickly because we have some terrible news to give you.”

“What news?” Baldwin asked, trying to resist the physicians who wanted to lead him to the canopy where they would treat him.

“Your nephew,” Tiberias said with difficulty, “is gone. We have been looking for him all over the castle. His room was empty.”

Baldwin frowned. He looked over at Aspasia, who was just as confused as he was.

“Could he have been kidnapped?”

“It appears so. The bedroom door was locked, we had to force it open. The room was in pristine condition, only the bed was left unmade. He could not have locked the room from the outside. We suspect someone may have taken him hostage.”

Aspasia jumped on her feet. Baldwin was about to push away his physicians when Tiberias raised a hand and said: “I have sent knights to patrol the perimeter of the city and search for the young prince. You must get your treatment, my lord.”

“I must head to the court, and assemble the- “

“Baldwin,” Aspasia called his name. He stops and listens to her, “I will go there with Tiberias. Let the physicians take care of you and meet us up when you are done.”

Tiberias hangs his head low and motions Aspasia to follow him. As she approaches him, he puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her: “we will deal with you later.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Baldwin, as a warning. He is then taken in charge by his physicians while Tiberias leads Aspasia to the prince’s bedroom. They traverse long corridors, Tiberias’s gaze burning the back of her skull. She thought about everything that had happened so far; it was not how she had envisioned things to be. If she did, she would have prepared herself to meet Tiberias better, by finding the right things to say or remind herself how she should behave.

Tiberias took her to the prince’s room. What Aspasia first saw was the busted door, which someone had forced in order to get access to. Then, inside, like Tiberias has said, the room appeared in order – no sign of violence or use of force. The bed was unmade, and a pillow has fallen on the carpet, but otherwise, nothing was out of the ordinary.

Aspasia headed to the window, which could allow a person to come in. “It is quite possible that the intruder has come and left through here as well.”

Tiberias nodded his head. He must have suspected some of the servants or guards, Aspasia guessed, and not have considered this option.

“Did they take anything valuable from the castle?”

“Nothing else. We thought it might have been you, or Phillip, who came for the prince.”

“… Why would I do that?” It felt as if she was being insulted. She would have done anything for Baldwin, including sacrifice her own life. She thought about the possibility of Phillip. “Phillip… perhaps…” Could he possibly have faked his own memory loss? Was this a way for him to get revenge on everyone? By kidnapping the prince?

Tiberius watched her shoulders dropped, confirming his initial thought. “We must get him before he harms the boy.”


	58. To Get back the Red Jewel

When court was in session, the gates have closed, and guards remained at their posts.

Women were not allowed to get inside, because politics were a domain where only men could be part of. Not even Sibylla, who was directly concerned by this issue, was not granted an exception. She had to trust that her younger brother was going to do everything that he could to bring back her son, his heir and that his kidnapper was going to be punished.

Aspasia watched Sibylla walk in circles, arms crossed over her chest. Earlier, she had been screaming on top of her longs, demanding to be let inside. It was the first time that she had seen the princess beg her good-for-nothing husband to take this job seriously and retrieve Baldwin.

Hesitating to come out of her hiding, Aspasia stood in the shadows, looking from the distance. She could have gone ahead of Sibylla, climbed the structure of the building, and surveyed from the top – just like she did before the battle of Kerak – but deep inside, she felt great pain. Sibylla was going through the exact same emotions as Aspasia went for Arwa – only, there was hope to recuperate the prince alive. For Arwa, Aspasia was too late, but maybe she could make a difference in the world, and maybe if she saved Baldwin, Sibylla would forgive her. It was important for her because when King Baldwin would be gone, Aspasia will have to count on Sibylla, Tiberias and Balian to be her only friends and family.

Finally, Aspasia stepped out of her hiding spot. She took off her hood and took off her hidden blade, to show that she was not there to cause a fight. When Sibylla saw her, standing there, in her dark marauder costume with sleek boots and very little jewelry, she froze. “Aspasia,” she said, and then, she seemed to remember everything that the latter has done and so she shouted: “YOU FUCKING BITCH!!! YOU’RE BACK!!!”

She ran towards her. Aspasia was not sure if the princess was coming for an embrace or an attack. Two hands wrapped themselves around her neck. Aspasia was pushed back harshly, almost fell down at one point. Her back hit a wall and she gasped for air. “That’s… not… nice!” she tried to mouth as the princess attempted to strangulate her.

Sibylla began kicking her with the knee, trying to aim at Aspasia’s body. The woman took a hit, then two, and finally, she moved her body to the side and Sibylla kicked the wall. Pain shot through her foot. She let go of Aspasia.

When she was free, Aspasia took a few steps back, hands in the air, declaring defeat. Sibylla jumped back and caught her wrists. “You think you can just come back like that and not deal with repercussions?”

“… Yes.”

“I’m not done with you! I have to save my son because the criminal you freed is after our family, but I swear, when this is done, you will be judged for your actions the same way that scumbag will be! Same punishment!”

“… Let’s… calm down…”

_Smack_!

Aspasia looked at Sibylla in disbelief. Did the princess just slap her? She then points a menacing finger at her and said: “you better get Baldwin back to me, or else I will skin you alive myself. You have no shame! Absolutely none! You cannot use us and then just leave when things are not convenient for you!!”

Aspasia bit her tongue. If she were to reply, she would anger Sibylla even more. If Baldwin heard that, she was not sure he would be taking her side. His relationship with his sister was already tense and Aspasia was the one in the wrong. She did not want to make Baldwin’s life more difficult than it already was.

“I … will find him…” Aspasia said, “I am here to help.”

“I hope so. You have been warned by the consequences.”

Sibylla let go of Aspasia’s wrists. When she did that, her eyes widened a bit – she had dug her nails into her flesh so hard that a little bit of blood came out. Sibylla would have apologized but she was too angry at Aspasia. When the latter noticed the look in her eyes, her attention went to her wrists and she noted the blood. She would have made a joke about it in normal times, but circumstances were that Sibylla was going to completely shut her out unless it was to communicate something important.

“I…” Aspasia mumbled as she massaged her wrists, “will climb up the building and try to sneak a peek inside.”

“… Can you do that?”

“Yes,” she nodded her head, “I have done that before.”

“And how difficult is it to climb up there?”

“… Quite difficult, but doable. Why? You want to go up?”

“Take me,” Sibylla demanded.

Aspasia hesitated. “Are you sure? It is difficult to get up there, I said. I don’t want to risk any accidents with you.”

“Just do as I say. It’s my son we are talking about.”

Aspasia sighed, but nodded her head. She looked around, making sure they were not being watched, and indicated Sibylla to follow her. She put on her hidden blades and adjusted her cloak over her head. She then instructed Sibylla to do just as she did.

With a little bit of help, Sibylla easily kept up with her. Aspasia, on the last jump, extended her a hand and Sibylla used it to help pull herself up. When they reached the top of the buildings, Sibylla more exhausted and in pain than Aspasia, the latter led them around the building, from above, to a spot where they could watch over the court.

Aspasia instructed her to bend down and keep her head low. From where they stood, they could see the King on his throne, Tiberias and Guy, including the knights of the Order of the Temple and the Order of the Hospital. The King’s knights stood around the walls, guarding the exits.

←→

When the meeting was over, the two women were back at the entrance, standing in front of the gates. The knights came out, in no particular order, but quickly regrouped around their grandmaster. Guy came out, right before Tiberias, and when he saw Aspasia, he first looked surprised and then sent her a menacing look, communicating his hatred for her. Did he know that she was present when Ermis killed Reynald and his knights? It did not matter.

Tiberias came out, shoulders dropped, and walked toward the princess, completely ignoring Aspasia. “You must find him,” Sibylla cried, and Tiberias offered her a handkerchief. Feeling left out and unwelcomed, Aspasia prepared to step away when she saw Baldwin approaching them, a servant by his side, with a cane in his hand. Aspasia’s eyes travelled from the cane to his mask, and Baldwin must have noticed that.

“We are all regrouped now,” Baldwin said.

“Brother,” Sibylla said, “you must find him, it is imperative. I don’t care what the cost is, so if we must negotiate, I am willing to pay –“

“-There will be no negotiating with terrorists,” Aspasia interrupted. Because that’s what Phillip was. He had been lying to anyone, to even his allies and his friends, why would he not lie to his own sister? “I will be part of the search,” she added, “and I will conduct it on my own.”

“Aspasia,” Sibylla warned, “you better watch out. I know you and I know you won’t keep your mouth shut. If you say something that crosses the line or provoke Phillip… I swear…”

“I won’t. I know just what we need to do to convince Phillip to spare Baldwin.”

“And what is that?” Tiberias asked.

Aspasia looked at Sibylla and said: “I’ll bring back the red stone and offer it to him. That’s what he wants, since the beginning.” It was the perfect plan. The stone was still in the vault, and the Apple was with Saladin. As long as Saladin kept the Apple safe, Phillip could have the stone. They could deal with him later.

Tiberias and Baldwin looked confused, but seeing that Sibylla knew exactly what Aspasia talked about, they left it at that. Tiberias put his hand on Sibylla's forearm and led her aside. The princess was visibly shaken by anger and fear. Her maids soon joined her and helped her head to her rooms, upstairs. Seeing that they have a bit of time alone, Aspasia put her arms around Baldwin and pulled him close.

"Good job on not speaking back," Baldwin joked, despite being worried himself by the situation.

Aspasia nodded her head and said: "I will find him. It's my fault that all of this is happening. I could not save Arwa but I can save him."

Baldwin nodded his head back at her and held her back. They stayed like this for a moment and then separated. When they did that, Baldwin asked: "how do you plan on finding Phillip?"

"I have an eagle. I can use it to scout the area for us. When it will find something, it will lead us to it." She points upwards, to the open sky. Baldwin looks up and spots an eagle, flying over the castle. He had not seen it before. "Where did you get that?"

Aspasia smiled at him. "I guess we can say this is my price for having won a battle." She prepared to leave. She took his hand in hers and said: "be careful."

"You too."

And with that, Aspasia left. She made her way to the front gates, no one bothered nor stopped her, and she took a horse from the stables. There, she exited the castle, Huma led the way. The bird flew around the city, Aspasia found a spot where she could climb with the horse to a higher altitude and watch the bird as it searched the city for her. Royal guards and knights patrolled the quarters. News of the prince’s disappearance must have reached the citizens. Wherever a knight would go, people would whisper about it, wondering if they were going to make a public announcement soon, if the prince was not found promptly.

Aspasia wondered if there was a way for her to catch up to Phillip. Could she guess where he has been heading? Back to camp was unlikely. They packed their items two nights ago. Phillip could be anywhere. Was he going to use Baldwin in order to obtain the red jewel? And after he got it, would he go after Saladin?

In the sky, Huma seemed to further distance itself from its master. Aspasia directed the horse toward the east, following Huma as the bird flew toward the outskirts of Jerusalem. Making her way through alleys and big streets, she finally reached the gate from which most crusaders coming from Europe entered the city. There, she found the familiar houses that had been built outside. The further she got, the more the houses looked abandoned, in ruins. Some of them had their walls falling while others had their ceiling crumbling.

Huma landed gracefully on the rooftop of a particular house. Aspasia felt something in her chest tightening, recognizing the house as the one as Phillip’s first hideout. He had laid out a trap for her, the last time, so he could be doing this again.

Aspasia looked around her, trying to find any knights in disguise who could attack her. She was very much alone. Not far from there, the road from the sea and the other coastal cities was constantly borrowed by pilgrims and knights. Would anyone find it odd that a young woman such as herself to be looking through abandoned houses?

She tied her horse to a post and walked inside the building. Part of a wall has collapsed since the last time she visited it. Dirt and sand accumulated inside, and what little furniture was inside the last time she came was completely destroyed by time and nature.

Investigating every single corner, she thought she was not going to find anything. Finally, her hand found a strange rock, shaped like a cube – it must have been hand-carved and forced into the hole of the wall to cover it up. She pulled the rock out with as much strength as she could muster. When it finally came out, she noticed a slip of paper had been bent in four and put inside the hole. Aspasia picked it and unfolded it. The message inside was written in Macedonian:

_I know you will find this paper. If you want to save him, you must meet me by the sea, and the midpoint between Ascalon and Jaffa. Come alone._

There was no signature at the bottom of it, nothing that would help Aspasia recognize the person who had left her the message, not even the handwriting. Aspasia shredded that piece of paper in anger. She knew that place – it was where she took Baldwin, when they went to visit the sea. The road to Jerusalem would lead them right there.

“Fucking – ” she cursed under her breath, but she was not sure what she was cursing exactly. Did Phillip want the jewel from her? Could he not just have taken it from her when she wore it, hidden in her belt, when they were together?

She wanted to hurry up, to get to the Isu vault in Masyaf, Syria, and get back the red jewel. Baldwin with Tiberias were going to prepare the gold for the ransom. Aspasia wanted to reach Phillip before Baldwin could attempt to negotiate with him. Baldwin did not know that Phillip cared more about a single red stone than stacks of gold. If she could reach the vault and come back to Phillip, she would successfully recuperate the prince and be the hero. Sibylla and Tiberias would forgive her and welcome her back with open arms.

She had to hurry.


	59. Not My Brother

Making her way up to the mountain, Aspasia thought a couple of times that she was going to faint if ever she looked back down.

Nothing was going to prepare her enough, however, to what she was about to see when she reached the top. The path that led to the Isu vault was completely taken over by nature, weeds grew uncontrollably over time, and Aspasia had to make the way herself by cutting down the plants that blocked her from passing. It appeared that no one, since Kazem, had tried to explore the other side of the mountain.

When she finally reached the top, she found herself standing on that plateau again, the huge gates imposing itself. Aspasia felt like an ant, in comparison to the doors. Now was not the time for questions about that ancient civilization and the objective of the Isu. She got to the gates and picked up the red jewel, that remained in the crevice since she inserted it the last time, and she tried not to look at Kazem’s corpse. Nothing was left of it, except the bones and some of the clothes, made of linen or leather. The flesh, muscles and fat had been consumed by scavengers and insects. The empty skull starred back into her eyes, as if to say ‘look what you have done to me, and this will be done to you too.’

Aspasia sighed to herself. She was not sure who played who at the end. Perhaps it was always Phillip who had the upper hand. Whenever Aspasia or Kazem thought they were being the smartest, the most capable at manipulating the other, it was all an illusion created by Phillip to boost their ego and to take them down easier later. She could prove Phillip wrong, by winning against him.

Now was the time, more than ever, to hurt him back. She was not alone – she had Baldwin, Sibylla and Tiberias by her side. She could leverage the situation to her advantage, with the red stone now.

Aspasia made her way back to the mountain, through the vault. Without activating the system for the recording, she made her way out and found herself standing at the base of the mountain again, where she and her father parted ways that day. Climbing on her horse, Aspasia galloped in direction to Jerusalem

←→

She gained speed as she reached Jerusalem. The sky was turning slightly orange as the sun was gradually setting. Aspasia took the road that circled around the city to avoid traffic. She was the only one who knew Phillip's location. The others would soon find her and catch up to them. Her thoughts went to Baldwin. She hoped the prince was safe so far. She doubted Phillip would torture him to death if his goal was to get something from her. He must have kept him hydrated, at the very least. Aspasia wondered if everything that had happened in the previous days was just a preparation for today. To kill off Arwa, so that Aspasia would be desperate to save Baldwin, and to make it easier for Phillip to get inside her head.

She rode past Jerusalem and made her way to the main road that led to the sea. There, there was a perpendicular road that went from Jaffa to Ascalon, in the south. Phillip was supposed to be there. The red stone inside her belt felt heavier. It has been like a curse to her, which she carried along in her journey. Could she really trade it for Baldwin’s life? Was the prince’s life worth more than the Apple of Eden? She was still unsure about the powers of the Apple, but handing it to Phillip was dangerous.

She rode for a long time before she reached the bifurcation of the road. Her horse was getting tired due to the hot sun, the lack of water and the long trip. She prayed that it would be able to take her there. If not, she would have no choice but to reach the meeting point on foot. The sea was in the line of sight. She looked around but could not spot anyone. Raising a hand up, she called Huma to set down. Huma landed her on hand, and Aspasia fed it a piece of bread, which she had on her. “Go search for Phillip,” Aspasia told the bird as if she was expecting the bird to understand her. The bird let go of her arm and flew. Suddenly, Aspasia noticed something red. She had unfortunately raised the wrong arm – the one where she did not wear any protection – and the bird had held onto her, claws digging into her flesh. “Shit, shit, shit!” she cursed and attempted to wrap it as well as she could with what she had on her. “How did I not notice that? Fuck!”

Huma flew above, scouting the terrain, and left out a loud cry when it spotted something. Aspasia said ‘ _ela_!’ to the horse and led it in that direction. They stepped out of the road and traversed a few dunes. In the distance, by the war, was standing an unrecognizable figure. At their feet, there was something that resembled a piece of baggage. Another figure, much smaller, stood by his side. “PHILLIP!! YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!” Aspasia screamed with all her might, “I HOPE YOU DID NOT TOUCH A SINGLE HAIR OF THAT BOY’S HEAD OR I WILL MURDER YOU!!!”

She jumped off the horse, falling into the sand, tripping and slipping, then getting up and sprinting in the direction of Phillip. She ran as fast as she could, ready to reveal the hidden blade. Then suddenly, she could see the figure more clearly. It looked like Phillip, only there were bandages all over the head. Pieces of hair came out from there, and the neck was completely hidden beneath the gauze. 

Aspasia fell down, rolled in the sand, and landed on her back. The man held the prince close to him, a hand on his neck. The boy was wearing clothes from the previous night, and he looked dehydrated and hot, but he was alright and he was going to survive. “ASPASIA!” Baldwin cried her name. He was about to run to meet her when a hand stopped him, holding him by the neck. “LET GO OF HIM!” Aspasia shouted at the man. “YOU’RE NOT PHILLIP! WHO ARE YOU??” 

He untied the bandages, then unwrapped it, exposing his forehead, then nose, then jaw.

“Akakios?”

She stood there in shock. It was him indeed, but he looked completely different. His face had suffered a lot of damage, and he bore many scars. Parts of his skin were damaged and they both knew that it would not go back to its original shape.

Something in her chest tightened. There was a sentiment of fright and pity at the same time. He was the one who bullied her and beat her up when they were kids, and that continued until they were adults. Aspasia thought she had put an end to him – killed him – when she tied him to that horse and scared off the horse. He went down through the mountains hitting everything and anything on his path.

“Nice to see you again,” Phillip said in a strange voice. He must have hit his neck some way, that his vocal cords were damaged, “I bet you have any questions.”

“How did you survive?”

“I don’t know. I barely did. Your father’s men found me, bloody and hurt. That’s you managed to get to Greece: they stopped to chase you, picked me up and brought me back to camp. I remember waking up in the infirmary after.”

She clenched her jaw. She did not care about him, frankly, but she had to make herself look as pleasant and as sympathetic to him as possible, for as long as he had his hand on the prince’s neck. He too wore a hidden blade. If she dared annoy him, it would be over, and he would kill Baldwin instantly. “I did this to you?” Aspasia asked.

“Yes.” He was beginning to take a tone with her, accusatory and sarcastic. Aspasia felt as if anything she would say, Akakios would interpret it as insulting or arrogant. 

“… I mean… I can barely tell… You were always ugly, both inside and out.”

“Watch it, Aspasia,” and he combs his fingers through Baldwin’s blond locks as if to remind her that the prince's life depended on her. Aspasia felt her heart race.

“Don’t cry,” she told Baldwin in the calmest and sweetest voice she could make, “I will protect you, kid.”

“Pl…ease…” he said, as he began to cry. Aspasia tried to appear calm and confident to give him strength.

She sighed. So, it was Akakios who left the note inside the abandoned house, not Phillip. Turning her attention to him, she asked: “What do you want, Akakios? I escaped, and I left Macedonia all for you. Was a different country not sufficient? Is revenge that important that you must chase me to Jerusalem?”

“Revenge? Yes, it would be fun to torture you. However, I came here with another purpose.”

“And that is?”

“To take back what you took from me.”

“… Your … health?”

“Aspasia,” he warned her.

Of course, she was just stalling him. “Oh! You can’t be mad at me for making a joke! I have done worse things to you in the past in comparison! Just take an insult like a man, can you do that?"

Ignoring entirely what she just said, he explained: “you took something that has a lot of value to me and I want it back.”

“And what is that?”

“Quit stalling,” Akakios said, his voice sounding dry and rough the more he spoke, “you know that I am talking about the red stone. It was given to me by my brother, and it belonged to our mother.”

“Your _what_ by your _what_?” Aspasia asked. She then laughed a bit at him, and said: “Akakios, I have to tell you the truth, but that jewel that you are talking about, is not from your family! It has another purpose, bigger than us, and it from Syria and it is meant to stay there! And, don't mind if I ask but what are you talking about? You have no brother! You’re an only child, just like I!”

“You are so ignorant, Aspasia, and so gullible. That stone belonged to my mother, and it is the only thing I have left from her!”

“Akakios, I – alright! Whatever floats your boat! I don’t care what you want to think! That stone is not yours, nor mine, to begin with! We have no business with something like that! I’m sorry to say it! I know it’s painful, but that’s the truth.” She threw her hands in the air and puffed loudly. Still, something about what Akakios has said ticked her, like an itch she could not scratch.

“I want the jewel.”

“And I want the prince. Let him come to me and I will toss you the stone.”

“Show me that you have it first,” he threatened to slice his throat. Aspasia sighed and motioned him to calm down. She then removed the stone from the inside of her belt and showed it to him in the palm of her hand. He scrutinized him for a moment. 

Suddenly, the sound of horses and galloping alerted them. Aspasia turned around and saw Tiberias, Baldwin and Sibylla on their horses, feet away from them. Aspasia sighed. _Why must they show up now, as I am concluding a deal. Akakios will think I betrayed him when he required me to be alone._ “STAY THERE!” Aspasia shouted at the trio.

“Aspasi-“

“-I’ve got this!”

Akakios’ face twitched. “You came with them?”

“No! I didn't! I came alone! You specifically requested that I should be alone!”

“And how do they know where to find you?”

“I have no idea!” Aspasia cried in desperation. Akakios exposed his hidden blade and was about to strike when an arrow came flying in his direction. Aspasia jumped on Baldwin to push him out of the way, the two rolling together in the sand, and Akakios fall backwards, a few feet away. The arrow landed between them. Ignoring it completely, Akakios jumped on Aspasia. She pushes the prince away and the little boy runs to his mother, who has gotten off her horse.

“STUPID BITCH!” Akakios hissed, trying to climb on top of Aspasia and pin her down. Raising his hand up, he aims the hidden blade at her. She used both her hands to keep him from stabbing her, but his other hand strangled her. The strength was leaving her body quickly. Akakios had always been much stronger than her physically. Pinned down, one hand on her neck and the other forcing down a blade at her, she felt like there was no escaping death that instant.

A heavy mass pushed Akakios aside. Aspasia could finally breathe again. She gasped for air and rolled on her stomach. “Get up,” a voice commanded. She looked up and saw her father standing there, a bow in his hand and arrows behind him. With no time to react or to think things through, he pulled her up by the cloak and forced her to stand on her feet. “You have a sword. A hidden blade. Use them.”

Right behind Ermis, another man appears.

“FILIPPOS!” Akakios exclaimed, wearing the most jovial expression ever, something Aspasia has never seen.

Aspasia frowned. So did Phillip.

“Filippos?” Aspasia asked. It made sense, in the end. Phillip was Greek – that was the Greek form of his name, but in the past, he had always referred to himself as ‘Phillip.’

“Who are you?” Phillip asked, with disgust.

“You don’t recognize me? That’s not amusing! She,” Akakios pointed his index finger at Aspasia, “did this to me!" he shows his face, "When she ran away!”

Phillip – or Filippos – took a step back when Akakios attempted to get closer to him. It was clear to Aspasia that Akakios was a complete stranger to him. “I don’t know you! I lost all my memories!” Filippos said.

“You’re shitting me! I’m your brother! C’mon, look at us! FILLIPOS! DON’T LOOK AWAY FROM ME LIKE THAT!!! LOOK AT ME!!!”

“DON’T LISTEN TO HIM!” shouted back Aspasia, “HE’S LYING TO YOU! I’M YOUR SISTER!!” And as if on cue, tears began to roll her eyes. If it helped convince Filippos, all for the better.

Ermis quickly interposed himself between Akakios and Aspasia as they were about to jump at each other’s throats. “KNOCK IT OFF!! BOTH OF YOU!!” And then, he looked over to Akakios and said: “he lost his memories! You have to understand-“

“-SHE LIED TO HIM!!! AND USED HIM!!!”

Akakios charged at Aspasia but Filippos and Ermis quickly put him down.

“DON’T HURT MY SISTER!” Filippos shouted at Akakios.

“SHE’S NOT YOUR SISTER, FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE! SHE’S A LIAR, A THIEF, AND A MANIPULATOR!!! SHE’S GOING TO KILL YOU WHEN SHE HAS THE OCCASION TO!”

Aspasia quickly intervened to kick Akakios in the head but before she could do that, her father pushed her aside. She fell on her butt. Now that Ermis had let go of Akakios to deal with Aspasia, the young man got on his feet to attack her, but Filippos managed to maintain him in place.

“SHE WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!!! _MALAKA_!!!!”

Filippos picked up a shield and used it to hit Akakios in the head. Falling back, Akakios tried to get up and attack Filippos with his hidden blade when Filippos blocked him with his own. Ermis tried to break up the fight but the two men were set on killing each other. With a big smile on her face, Aspasia crawled back. Baldwin and Tiberias tried to join, to help them, but Aspasia indicated that they should remain where they were. This was the perfect time to get rid of Akakios and Filippos. If they could simply kill each other, it would have made Aspasia’s job much easier.

“ASPASIA! DO SOMETHING!” Sibylla yelled.

“NO!” She showed the princess a big smile, while Sibylla looked at her and at her family fight in horror.

Akakios picked up his weapons and took on Ermis and Filippos. He is attacked from both sides, and could barely stand on his own feet, he had to fall to his knees, as Ermis and Filippos threw blows each from their own angle.

Aspasia quickly stood up and picked up her sword. From behind, she slashed Akakios across the back. He began to bleed profusely. She must have hit an artery from behind. Ermis took the shield from the ground and used it to hit Akakios in the head. He fell unconscious to the ground. And Filippos raised his sword and beheaded him. Taking a step back to breathe, Aspasia watched Akakios’ body bleed. There, before her, stood Ermis and Filippos, the latter looking angrier than never before. Aspasia left out a laugh.

“What the fuck is going on??” Filippos asked.

Ermis sighed and wiped his brows. Aspasia was just as confused as Filippos was. "Say something, father," Aspasia demanded.

" _Father_?" Filippos asked Aspasia in confusion. "This is our father?"

Ermis sent Aspasia an angry look. "You can put an end to this act, Aspasia," and then he directed his attention to Filippos and said: "This is complicated to say. I never thought I would have to explain this.”

“What’s going on?”

Ermis took a deep breath and said: "I owe you both an explanation: you, Aspasia, as my daughter, and you, Filippos, because you lost your memories. I have been keeping this from both of you, but, now is the time that we should be honest with each other."

"What a perfect time for honesty," joked Aspasia, and used her sword to gesture at the dead body in front of them. "I mean... nothing unusual about this."

"Aspasia," he ignored her and continued, "I have never told you this, but Akakios and I have a father in common - your grandfather. When my own mother died, your grandfather remarried, and out of that marriage, he had Akakios. And Filippos."

"Wha- "

"- No, let me finish. I know it may come as a shock, but it's true. These two are - were - my half-brothers and so, therefore, they are your uncles. Akakios and Filippos are fraternal twins. Filippos left Macedonia long before you came to us, and he returned only once like I have told you. His visit was about the red jewel, and on that day, I knew you and Akakios could not meet with him because it was going to stir up problems for the Templars, and it could have caused the two of you to join his cause. I sent you too to train in the forest and in the mountains."

"What are you talking about, old man?" Filippos intervened. " _She'_ s my sister."

"No, _she'_ s not. Aspasia is your niece."

Filippos raised his sword to Ermis' throat. They both looked at each other menacingly. Aspasia felt her palms sweaty. She tried to keep her mind clear, to understand what her father has just said. It was a shock to her, and Filippos simply refused to understand or to listen. "W-w-wait, Akakios is my unc-"

"-he's saying bullshit," Filippos spat. "I would have recognized my own brother if I had one."

"Shut up, Filippos. You're just going to deny everything but at some point, you will have to face the truth."

"The truth? What truth? That _you_ killed your own _brother_?" he indicated at the corpse with his chin. "You think I'm going to believe that? That's some Abel and Cain shit, if I've ever seen anything like it before"

"He was going to kill me and kill her," Aspasia's father referred to her, "put that sword down. Now."

"Or else what? You will kill your own family? Or rather what remains of it?"

"Don't take a tone with me, kid," replied Ermis, "you are much younger than me and much more inexperienced than me. I could break you if I wanted to."

Filippos was about to strike when Ermis blocked the attack. Aspasia jumped back. She was unsure of what to do. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She looked at Akakios' body but felt no emotions whatsoever. Could he really be her uncle if she felt no remorse? She looked at Filippos. Countless times has she said that they were similar, physically speaking, but she only said those things to prove that they were siblings. She would have never imagined that they were related.

"STEP BACK IF YOU WILL NOT FIGHT!" Ermis shouted at her.

He interrupted her train of thoughts. Aspasia seemed to regain focus on the current situation. Metal clashing, grunting, sweating, and swearing.

Aspasia crawled back, unsure of what to do. Have her emotions changed about Filippos, now that she knew that they were related by blood? They did, but it did not change the fact that he killed Arwa. She thought about her relationship with her father. It did not exist in Macedonia, but seeing him defend her gave her a glimpse of hope. Could she potentially repair it? Was there a possibility that the two could travel to Macedonia and visit her mother's grave together? If things resolved themselves, what would come of Filippos?

Aspasia noticed, a few feet away from her, that a little red light came from the sand. She jumped on it, finding the jewel, half-buried in the dirt. She must have dropped it when she jumped on Baldwin to protect him from the incoming arrow. She picked it up and hid it inside her belt. Looking behind her, Aspasia saw that the two men were not going to stop fighting until one of them gave up. "STOP IT!" she yelled. They kept clashing swords. Aspasia pretended to be looking for her sword. When she found it, further away, she picked it up and ran back to the fight. "STOP IT, I SAID!" Seeing that no one was going to listen to her, she decided to intervene. She took her father's side, joining with him to stop Filippos. 

"ASPASIA YOU PIECE OF -" Filippos exclaimed. "WHY ARE YOU TAKING HIS SIDE? WHAT ABOUT OUR PACT TO STAY TOGETHER!! WE CUT A FINGER FOR EACH OTHER!!"

"FUCK YOU!" She kicked him. He fell down. Raising her sword, she tried to strike at him but he dodged it. "I DID THAT JUST TO KEEP YOU QUIET!! I NEVER INTENDED TO STAY BY YOUR SIDE!! I JUST DID THAT TO PROVE TO YOU THAT I AM YOUR SISTER!!! IT SERVED TO KEEP YOU AROUND!! THIS IS THE BIGGEST REGRET OF MY LIFE!! I SWORE THAT I WAS GOING TO KILL YOU!!"

It looked like something in his eyes broke. As she attacked him from behind, Ermis came from the front. Filippos managed to block incoming attacks, handling Ermis and Aspasia coming at him with all their strength. "What is it that you want, Filippos?" Ermis asked, in Macedonian. "Why keep fighting your own blood when you have nothing left to win and all to lose? The King wants to arrest you and hang you! Stop fighting us and let us run away together, as a family!"

"Shut up and fight!" Filippos spat back.

Aspasia felt a blockage. Why was her father speaking about family, suddenly? Run away from all their problems? From the Macedonian rite and the Templars? Where? To do what? Filippos did kill Aspasia's mother and Arwa. What was the purpose in doing that? To persuade him to stop fighting? "Father!" Aspasia warned him to stop. She saw it as an insult directed at her. The man did not even bother looking at his own daughter. Aspasia felt a pain in the chest. It was the same feeling as when she felt abandoned by her mother, by her father, by everyone. Now, her father was speaking of saving Filippos. Baldwin said that the man was irredeemable. She stopped fighting, and almost dropped her sword. Baldwin would have joined her but she screamed at him: "STAY THERE!"

"Aspasia! Come to me!"

"Stay. There." _Shouting orders to a king_ , Aspasia smirked. She focused her attention on her fight. Filippos was not getting any softer or kinder when Ermis said the word 'family.' What did that mean? Was there no value in having a family, according to him? Or perhaps he did not recognize them as such? The fight between the two men kept going. The sun was beginning to set and no one knew how long they were going to stay there.

"Give up, Filippos!" Ermis hissed. It pained Aspasia to see her own father fight for Filippos when he never did that for her. No wonder Filippos did not accept his version of the term 'family' if Ermis was not going to go to the same length for his daughter. Suddenly, Filippos exposed his hidden blade and slashed Ermis across the chest. Blood splattered everywhere.

"FATHER!!!" Aspasia shouted in Greek.

Ermis left out a groan, and almost collapsed when he used his strength to elbow Filippos in the face and slash with his sword his shoulder. He kicked his half-brother away from him and fall back. Aspasia ran by his side and caught him. She placed him delicately on the ground. Blood gushed out in jets, to the rhythm of his heartbeat. That blood got onto Aspasia's clothes. She tried to stop it but he could not be saved. With Filippos to the ground as well, bleeding from the shoulder, they did not risk getting attacked.

Tiberias tried to approach and help. "IT'S A FAMILY MATTER!! STAY THERE!!" Aspasia barked at him.

"YOU ARE KILLING EACH OTHER!! PUT AN END TO IT!!!"

She let her father's body slide to the ground. He tried to say something to her but he was incoherent with his words. For a reason unknown to her, Aspasia began to shed tears. Never in her life did she believe she would be crying over him. He made her childhood miserable. For a short moment, she tried to think of the things she had done wrong and how she could have made it better, but it was a final act of desperation. Ermis took his daughter's hand and managed to say: "don't... let ... him succeed."

Aspasia chuckled. "You know that I am a sore loser. I won't let this happen." His arms and his head fell heavily on the ground. The blood came coming out and the puddle underneath got bigger and bigger. Aspasia sighed and got up. "Shit, shit shit," she muttered under her breath. It was just her and Filippos. Akakios and Ermis gone, she would have to finish him by herself. Luckily, he was badly injured and tired. Aspasia hoped she had the strength and the technique to take him out on her own.

She picked up her sword and wiped it off of her father's pants, and looked at it clean, reflecting the light. Phillip was still to the ground, trying to stop the blood from leaving his body. Ermis must have hit an artery because was losing blood at a fast rate. "Now," she said, "let us deal with you, _uncle_."


	60. Change your Fate

Instantly, Aspasia kicked the metal shield which her father had dropped. It was thrown in the air and as if it were a discus, then at Filippos, Aspasia was aiming for the head. Coming at him with full force, it was enough to knock him on the ground. Looking up, slightly blinded by the sun, he watched Aspasia’s silhouette approach him menacingly. “I am really sorry about this, Filippos. You were a good uncle to me – almost like a brother, even. But I promised I would not let you get away with what you’ve done. You are too dangerous to be allowed to live.” 

She stepped on his hand, making sure he could not move and dig her heel enough to cause him to shriek in pain. With his free hand, he attempted to grab her ankle, but Aspasia used her sword to strike him at the elbow. His screams almost brought satisfaction to her. She had wanted to see him in agony for a long time now, and she finally had the opportunity to make him pay for what he had done to their family, to her mother.

She lifted her boot off of his hand. He seemed to feel relief when she kicked him in the jaw. The sound of his bones cracking was followed by another one of his screams. He turned his head to the right, blood rolling down the sides of his mouth. She grabbed that arm on which she had stepped on and twisted the wrist. More bone-cracking sounds. It felt good. “I feel bad for doing this to you, I really do. But I do not believe you felt sorry when you killed my mother. In fact, you were quite happy to see how the rest unfolded after – with my father and the Order, with your pursuit for the piece of Eden.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” he hissed between his teeth. He brought his arm closer to him and attempted to step back when Aspasia kicked him once again in the head. He hit the ground loudly, Aspasia was almost prompted to put an end to the beating, but her adrenaline kicked in and it was too late to stop at this point: if she let him leave, he would go into hiding, heal, and come back for her. She could not allow him to come and hurt her or hurt those she cared about ever again.

“Aspasia, please –“called out the soft voice of the little prince Baldwin, as his mother held him close to her to prevent him from joining Aspasia.

“ – Stay back,” she ordered, and she kicked Filippos in the abdomen, provoking him to roll on the side. She made sure the gauntlets she had were secure on her wrists and revealed the hidden blade to Filippos. His eyes, wide open, conveyed nothing but fear.

“I SAID I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT, WHAT DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND, BITCH?!” he screamed, and it was prolonged by screams of agony as she stabbed him with the blade in the foot. It was supposed to keep him on the ground but despite the throbbing pain, he managed to stand up and hold out a sword he picked up from the ground to defend himself.

“SHUT UP!”

Bam! He was whipped in the face. Aspasia jumped on him and attempted to strangle him. He managed to kick her in the stomach and push her over him. She rolled on the side and tried to do so again but Filippos was much faster than her. He quickly stood up and kicked her away from him. He, unfortunately, used the injured foot and hissed in pain as he realized so. Aspasia got up again and jumped on him. She tried to slice his neck but Fillipos held her arm away from his face and kneed her in the abdomen.

Exposing his own hidden blade, the one which Aspasia had gifted to him, he managed to cut through her own stomach, ripping only the fabric, unfortunately. Aspasia threw her body back, avoiding the attack, and upon realizing that there was no pain, she sighed in relief and got up. She could still fight.

"You will pay for what you did to Arwa," she hissed, getting into position.

"Who?" he asked, visibly confused.

"That little girl you murdered in the alley, last night, in Jerusalem. She was my friend and she had a bright future, and you took her away from me, from her father. YOU WILL FUCKING PAY!!" She animated her own anger. Filippos killed people but did not know who they were, their names, nor recognized their faces. Her cheeks turned red. Aspasia quickly hid her face behind her hands and hung her head low. “Why did you do that? …” she asked, sadly. "She was innocent. Why would you do something so monstrous?"

Filippos looked at her with confusion. Aspasia was switching from one mood to the other. Visibly, she was going through a crisis, emotions taking the best of her. She was losing focus on the battle and mourning the death of the little girl she spoke of instead of fighting him.

“This is not the first time, Aspasia,” he revealed to her, “I don’t understand why you’re reacting like this just now? Is it because it was a little kid?”

She sobbed quietly but stopped upon hearing what he just told her. “What? What do you mean by ‘not the first time’? You’ve done it before??”

“Yes!” Filippos exclaimed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “in Syria. How do you think I acquired food, money, clothes, and new tools?? C’mon, don’t tell me you thought that I…” He paused, seeing how it only made the situation worse. “Shit, you must be DUMB for thinking that ... Oh, wow! You were not there with me when it happened, I give you that, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t kill anyone else! Why would I take an interest in a brat? She was just an orphan who stole your necklace! I brought it back to you! That was my goal!”

“What are you talking about, Filippos? What? Syria? Were you attacked and you defended yourself?”

Filippos was giving her more information than she could assimilate. Her thoughts went from the murders he committed in Syria to his revelation about Arwa and the necklace. She was blocking and she was unable to calm herself down. It was a moment of weakness, which she detested more than anything. Filippos was going to use that opportunity to strike at her. 

To kill someone who is innocent, with the only goal to take what they have. He was making confessions, which the King, the Marshall and the Princess could hear. Everything could be used in Court to justify his death penalty. It would not matter, however, because Aspasia had her own justice to serve.

To what she had said previously, Filippos shrugged his shoulders, unbothered. “You are making a big deal out of nothing. We are mercenaries. And let me ask you, but ... are we done with fighting?”

“Not criminals, no. Which is why you shouldn’t be – oh goodness, I will have a heart attack if this keeps up…” She turned her back to him. That was a mistake. She wanted to sit down, as she began to feel sick in the stomach. Aspasia rubbed her face and tried to stop crying. Everything was happening right under her nose and Aspasia saw nothing. She felt stupid, for having been so blind.

Strangely enough, if felt like Filippos still had sympathy for his former sister. Ermis and Akakios had ruined their relationship. Ignorance was bliss but at least now, they could work toward a future as an uncle and his niece. How would things differ, if they did that?

He tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but Aspasia smacked it. Filippos pulled his hand back and stayed like this, looking at Aspasia go through a mental breakdown. It was not the first time that he witnessed that, but it was the first time it was directed at him.

“I didn’t know you would have a problem with it… And that you would not have expected it...”

“This is bullshit.”

“Bullshit, right. But it happened.”

Aspasia kicked her foot in the ground, sending dirt and pebbles flying. She cried some more and refused for Filippos to touch her. He ended up staying with her a bit, but seeing that she would not stop, he walked away. Aspasia was going to come back, calm - he was sure of it.

"Take a deep breath," Filippos encouraged her.

"Leave me alone."

"Aspasia. You are hyperventilating right now. You have to relax. You killed people in the past too, right? How is that different? Just because you gave it a name - a 'mission; - that does not make it any better."

"I fucking hate you," she said. He tried to approach her. He put a hand on her shoulder. Aspasia, swiftly, spun on her heels and dug the hidden blade inside his stomach. Filippos left out a cry. His eyes looked down. Aspasia retracted the hidden blade from inside his stomach and took a step back before Filippos could do the same to her. "Piece of trash. Why would I even bother trying to save you?" And she spat on him. "That's for what you did to my mother," and she kicked the ground so that dirt got in his face, mouth and nose, "and that is for Arwa."

Filippos could not get up from the ground. He shared his fate with his brothers, Aspasia being the only one who remained alive and unscathed. She sighed to herself, and got down on one knee, next to Filippos' body. It was unclear to her whether or not he was conscious at this point. He was losing blood at a fast rate, bleeding from the shoulder where Ermis has injured him, from the stomach and the mouth as well. "I... regret things had to come to this. We... " she searched for the right words, "spend many good moments together and had a great time. I... really wish I had someone like you at camp when I was in Macedonia, to protect me and to be my friend, because I suffered there a lot due to many other factors, and I know you have suffered in your life too."

She removed his hidden blade and used it to pierce him through the heart one last time. This was more symbolic than anything. Filippos's body remained motionless. Aspasia, judging that it was over, got up and looked around her. Three bodies scattered, blood puddles forming everywhere. It was getting darker, the sky was partially navy blue. She sighed to herself and looked up at the royal family who had assisted to everything. She had almost forgotten they were there but was glad that they had not left her. Baldwin was safe, thanks to her, and Sibylla and Tiberias were going to forgive her, now that she had gotten them rid of an enemy. 

"Aspasia!" shouted the prince, a smile making its way to his lips.

Aspasia kicked the three bodies, one after the other. None of them reacted, as expected. That was her whole family, they had killed one another like idiots. They never got along, in the past, and today was not going to be the day they would learn how to solve their issues and put their ulterior motives aside. She left out a breath mixed with a laugh. “He’s not going to harm anyone anymore,” she said, “did you hear me? HE’S NOT GOING TO HARM ANYONE ANYMORE!”

“We heard you,” Baldwin said. The little prince was about to escape his mother’s embrace and began running in Aspasia's direction faster than his uncle. He hugged Aspasia with all his might, almost crying. She looked down at the little boy who had visibly been very worried for her well-being.

“Don’t cry, little one,” she chuckled and gave him light taps on the back to make him stop. “You were very brave, Baldwin,” she reassured him, “in face of danger, you remained composed and dealt with it in a fantastic way. Your bravery will come to use to you when you will become king in the future.”

The little prince cried, clutching to her clothes and using them to hide his teary face. He then placed his small arms around her and accepted her pats on his back. “You are braver than most knights I have seen,” Aspasia added, hoping that he would stop sobbing. She knew he would like that compliment. The little prince finally began letting go of her, and when he took a step back, he noticed the red stains on his hands and his shirt. Equally surprised, Aspasia looked at him, then at her own body, and noticed the red that had tainted her clothes.

“Oh no,” he said, “I hugged you too hard, did I not? I am sorry, Aspasia,” he said. "I'm so sorry! I squeezed you too hard!"

“It’s alright, it’s alright! You did not hurt me at all!” she laughed, amused by the fact that he thought his embrace was strong enough to cause her to bleed from the side. “That was not you, that was the evil Filippos. It is alright, you should... maybe was your hands.”

It was like an alarm, it hit her suddenly. All the eyes were set on her. Looking down at her body, some of the fabric had been cut by Filippos. As she inspected it more carefully, she revealed deeper wounds. It was a mistake to assume that Filippos had only ruined her clothes. The weapon had cut through her skin and penetrated it quite deeply. She should have felt it. If left untreated, the flow of blood would only increase. Aspasia could have only one explanation for this. Something was not right with her, fundamentally.

She quickly put her hand on it, almost as if to make sure the blood was truly there. It was warm and wet - there was no mistake. The King jogged to her and almost shooed his nephew away. She gave the prince a big smile to reassure him, but she was not convinced it worked. Baldwin looked worryingly at her, and Aspasia sent him a worried look as well. “We need to get you to the Hospital," he said, "my physicians will patch you up. I have some of the best ones you can find, so they will be able to fix you.”

“You can't fix this, Baldwin," she whispered to him and sent a cautious glance at the other characters who observed the scene but could not hear them. "This wound is worse than I thought,” she broke down in giggles. She would do anything necessary to dissipate the fear in their eyes. She turned her back to them and faced Baldwin so that the others would stop starring at her. Behind her as Sybilla looked at Baldwin’s heads and at Aspasia. What was going on through her head? Was she thinking about their relationship that appeared to be romantic? Or Aspasia's wounds? She must have noted that the young woman was hurt.

Aspasia looked at Baldwin who stood in front of her, his hands holding her by the forearms. “Now is not the time to protest, Aspasia. I am your King and those are my orders.”

He attempted to pull her, but she remained still.

“Baldwin," she said in a serious tone. She paused. "You know very well what this means."

"Let us ask my physicians. They will be able to tell you."

"No. You don't understand. You... I... You know very well that t _here is no hope for me_.”

It had a double meaning. Baldwin seemed to catch it, and he looked behind at his sister and his nephew. Tiberias tried to get them to climb on their horse but they would refuse to move.

“Please tell them to get going,” begged him Aspasia. She did not want them to watch her die. At least not like this.

“I can use some fabric to prevent the blood from – “

“- There is nothing to do, this is it.”

_Slap_!

Aspasia was in shock. Her hand lifted itself up to her cheek. In the face too, she did not feel anything, when she knew she was supposed to. Baldwin had just slapped her, and she had not seen it coming. “What was that for??”

“For saying nonsense. You have to listen to me. Let me get you there, we can get a horse and take you to the Hospital. I will be careful in guiding the horse so that you don't injure yourself any further!”

“But the Hospital is far away from here. Please, Baldwin, you have to take in consideration my situation. You just _saw_ what happened here. Three people were killed. By me. I did all of this.”

Baldwin shook his head. “You defended yourself and you saved my nephew. You were put in a difficult situation and I have so much empathy and admiration for you.”

“That is a difficult position to argue." She wanted to cry. No one had said that to her before. "They will have some questions when they see three members of the Templar’s Order were killed by a close member of the royal family. Your forces depend on them, you cannot make an enemy out of Lusignan, or Heraclius, or the Vatican. At least not now. You need to defend Jerusalem and you need their men.”

“We will discuss this later. We do not have time to lose.”

He was beginning to sound angrier. Aspasia could have argued until he finally gave in, but she did not want to reveal her fears to him. He would have felt guilty for everything that had happened between them, their short-lived history.

“Baldwin, take your nephew - your heir - to safety. He is covered in my blood, and he is tired after what happened- “

“- Why do you never listen to anyone? Why do you never listen to _me_? I am telling you we can patch you up if you could just follow me!”

“WHY DO I NOT LISTEN TO _YOU?_ WHY DO _YOU_ NOT LISTEN TO _ME_?” she screamed louder. She used her index finger to point to her chest then to his chest. That was rude of her, but Baldwin seemed to have excused it in a blink of an eye when he noticed the tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

He placed his hands on both sides of her face and used his gloved fingers to wipe away a few tears that were rolling. He shushed her in an attempt to calm her down and said: “Please do not cry… not now.”

“I _cannot_ go back.”

“Give me a good reason why.”

She wanted to throw a tantrum. She was tired of having to explain herself to others. “Because.”

“ _Because_? What kind of answer is ‘because’?”

She sighed. Looking down at her feet, then at her hands, she noticed the patch of blood was getting bigger. The material was sucking it up. She realized that she was wasting time arguing with him. Baldwin and Sibylla were watching. She wanted them to turn around and walk away but they were waiting for their argument to be over.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Baldwin blinked. “You are giving up this easily?”

She scratched the area between her eyebrows. “Please tell them to walk first.” That was her initial request to him.

Baldwin did not understand why she asked so, but he instructed Sibylla to take her son by the hand and to begin walking. Tiberias brought their horses to them. As the two of them began to walk toward the horses to follow the Marshall to the city, they looked behind their shoulder to see if Baldwin and Aspasia followed them. Baldwin removed his cloak and attempted to bandage Aspasia with it when she refused it and pushed it away. “What is this attitude of yours? I do not like it how you defy me for the slightest thing.”

“I really love you, Baldwin, do you know that?”

He seemed shocked by her sudden confession. Of course, he knew that they had told each other about their feelings many nights ago. “Of course, I know, Aspasia. I love you too. Please… Do not anger me more. Come with me now.”

She stopped him and held his hand gently. “I am sorry for having yelled at you. It was rude of me. Please forgive everything I have done. I regret every single thing.”

“Aspasia, everything is forgiven…”

“And please understand that there is no hope for me. What I am about to do is necessary…”

Before he could ask her what she meant by it, she lifted her sleeve, exposed the hidden blade, and brought it with much force to her stomach. There was a scream coming from her and a shout from Baldwin which made Sibylla and her son stop and see what had happened.

Aspasia’s body fell limpidly on the ground, but Baldwin was quick to jump to her and support her. He set her on his lap. While he was on his knees, he tried to adjust her body so that she would lay comfortably and he could apply pressure to the wound. He used his cloak to cover it, but it was quickly drenched in her blood – the wound was fatal. He wanted to scream at her, scold her for what she did, but she did not have much time left and he could not bring himself to express to her his anger.

“I bet you are angry with me,” she said, with a stupid smile on her face.

Tears began rolling behind the mask. He swallowed his saliva with difficulty but managed to nod his head. He did not need to add anything; now was not the time to express his anger at her.

“You know me, Baldwin. You know how I am simply incapable of obeying orders. And it goes without saying, you know very well why I _did that,”_ continued Aspasia, in a low voice for only him to be able to hear.

“We could have walked away from this and gotten on the right path.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be silly… You know it was not possible for me. I have done murder, in front of three witnesses. In front of a king. You cannot lie about matters like this to the Court. Not even you could prevent me from going to prison.”

“And you chose death over prison. You would have at least been alive in prison,” replied the King, anger as an undertone, “I could have negotiated for your freedom and gotten you out of there.”

Aspasia was facing a dilemma: admitting to the king she had contracted from him the worst disease known to mankind, or to admit she had been stupid enough to not consider the possibility of escaping prison one day. In both cases, she would bring him nothing but pain. Baldwin did not need reminding that he would not live long enough to be able to bail her out. He was constantly reminded of his death, and he did not need it from her, now. Even if he did succeed in bailing her out, he would have died in the following years and Aspasia would be free but cursed with leprosy and with friends-turned-into-enemies. She would have lived a life in isolation, ostracized by the people, because she was no royal and did not deserve the attention or care that the King received.

“I hope you live many more years,” Aspasia told him, “and have a fulfilling life. I know I fulfilled _my_ purpose. I have with me the key to the _piece of Eden_.”

She removed from her pocket a small jewel, dirty with dust and blood, and she placed it in his palm.

“I do not know what is its purpose, nor where it came from, but I know it is important to the Templars and to Saladin. Your father defended it with all his life and asked for it to be placed in his hands when he was put in his grave. He must have known something about it. It is said that it yields great powers, but I know that great power can corrupt. I cannot be sure if this will bring peace or destruction, but your father knew that it had to be hidden from the world. This is enough information to know that you need to guard this. The Templars are not to be trusted – they speak of remaking the world as it was before Adam and Eve ate the Apple from the Tree. I do not know what this implies, or what their true goal is, but it sounds like it involves great sacrifice and bloodshed.”

Baldwin was confused but understood Aspasia was just as lost as he was. Both knew there was something wrong at the core of the Order of the Temple. “I will do so,” he promised her, “they will not touch this.”

“Good.”

“Does Guy know about this … project of reshaping the world?”

“No… Guy is too stupid.” As she said that, a large smile appeared on Aspasia’s lips, almost as if she wanted to laugh at her own jokes. Her face turned more serious in a second. She then said: “but nonetheless, he has shown me that he can sometimes slip information more than he should. Perhaps you could use him as a pawn…”

“I am not like you Aspasia,” noted Baldwin, “I do not use people as pawns the way you used Filippos. Guy will learn of my intentions if I present myself too approving of him and his ways.”

She coughed a bit. She tasted blood in her mouth. “Then don’t become like me. Do not use him the way I would have used Filippos. Guy will say more than he should on his own. Keep the enemy close – have you heard of this saying?”

Baldwin tried to bring her closer to him but maintained a safe distance between their faces as if he was still afraid to transmit her his disease at this time. Aspasia lifted her hand up and touched his mask. He quickly realized what she was trying to do and secured the mask on his face.

The blinked twice. “Come on,” she coaxed him, “will you really do this to me now? … You know that even our dispute if I never mentioned again to see your face, this whole time, I really want to do this.”

Of course, she would have been curious to see his face. He had always told himself he was not ready to show it to her. He thought of himself as ugly – he was a beautiful child, but that was before the disease had eaten away his flesh.

“The way you see me will shift if I do so.”

“Naturally…” she agreed, “and that is because the way I imagine you has nothing to do with the reality…. Will you show me your face, please? Consider this my dying wish…”

There was a sigh. His lips trembled but he allowed Aspasia to remove his mask. He expected her to have an abrupt reaction – disgust, confusion, fear, sadness. Instead, she looked at his face for a long time, focusing on each part for several seconds. There was almost a small laugh coming from her. Normally he would have taken offence, but it was Aspasia, and Aspasia was always the one to make the most inappropriate remarks in a given situation. “I promise you I was a handsome boy when I was Baldwin’s age,” he joked, referring to his nephew.

“You two do look very much alike. Blue eyes, blond hair… Are you sure he is not _your_ son, perhaps?”

Baldwin sighed in exasperation and chuckled. “Yes, I am very sure,” he nodded his head slowly. "What an odd time to be making jokes."

“I have to ask… if you are missing part of your lips and your cheeks,” she said as her fingers traced the area that was ruined by leprosy, “how do you eat exactly?" She was interrupted by a cough, but she quickly continued, "Do you prefer softer foods, or do you just place the food at the back of the mouth and use your back teeth to chew it?” Then he began laughing at her. “What? Why are you laughing? Do not laugh! You are the first leper I meet, and I have many questions.”

He used his fingers to flick her in the cheek and she laughed at it. It has been a long time since he could joke about his disease with someone. Most people did not dare say anything as such to him.

For someone who was losing a lot of blood by the second, she was awfully energetic and in a good mood. Tears continued rolling down his eyes and Aspasia wiped them one by one, her thumb caressing his cheeks where the skin was ruined and bruised by the disease or previous injuries in battle.

“I have never believed I would die before you,” Aspasia confessed, “but in the end, this must have been God's will.”

“How so?”

“Well, you know me… My loud mouth, my recklessness … My talent for making enemies. This only makes so much sense…”

Baldwin chuckled at her attempt to make a self-deprecating joke. He hushed her and lifted her body up enough for their heads to be close. She brought her lips onto his. One arm placed around his shoulders and the other one hanging down, next to his waist. She tilted her head slightly to the side, the tip of her nose resting on his cheek. It was a brief kiss, but it was both their first and their last. As her body relaxed, his hand on her wound tensed up. She whispered to him that there was no purpose in doing so, but he had to do whatever he could to keep her alive a few more seconds. She remained like that, her body in the same position, for a few moments, her eyes still glistening and full of colour. Baldwin looked at them, unsure if she was still there with him or gone.

He heard a sigh coming from behind him. His sister had kept the prince against her body, but she had put him in Tiberias' charge and walked toward her brother. Putting a hand on Baldwin's shoulders, she caught a glimpse of Aspasia's body and face and was not sure of what to say or how to react. She tried to say something but could not get the words out. “Let... her go, Baldwin,” Sibylla said in a soft and saddened voice.

“Not yet… Just a little bit longer…”

←→

_Following the death of Aspasia, King Baldwin IV returned to Jerusalem and crowned his nephew co-king.  
A year later, he finally died of his disease and his nephew led the kingdom with the help of Tiberias.  
Not long after, it was discovered that he too had leprosy. The hypothesis was that he must have caught it from Aspasia.  
As for the Apple of Eden, it was taken from King Baldwin IV after his death, and although it remained in the Middle East, its whereabouts remained unknown for many years. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta daaa!!!
> 
> What can I say? Thank you for having read it so far! Thank you for leaving comments and kudos! Thank you for the support and the kindness you've shown me and this story! I am getting emotional because finishing this is a real victory for me. I have gotten attached to my characters, it is hard to say goodbye to them.
> 
> I appreciate your supports, everything! I will now enter a process of heavily editing this story. If you have any questions about the events, characters and so on, leave them below! If you liked this story, feel free to check out my other works!


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